It Runs In The Family
by Cheryl W
Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.
1. Chapter 1: Nature Vs Nurture pt 1

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Supernatural or Dark Angel, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Supernatural and Dark Angel –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

Author's Notes: This is a sequel to my story, 'It's in the Genes.' But if you want to catch up, just know that this is an AU from the season 3 finale and Dean never went to Hell. Alec from Dark Angel is a genetic clone created by Dean's DNA. Dean and Sam have accepted Alec as a brother and they are now hunting together as a family. Harm/Comfort scenes abound.

This is a shout of to every reviewer who was kind enough to ask for further adventures of the three brothers! Hope you enjoyed this teaser of a beginning. I'm planning on doing mostly one shot stories and probably won't have a true story arch but I'm hoping they will still be fun to read.

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Chapter 1

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It was humbling to find his speed was proving to be no match for the two thousand pound beast loping behind him, its gait eating up the distance that separated them easily. Branches tore into his face as Alec blurred through the woods. Wasn't sure which was louder, his heartbeat or the sound of the beast's massive body crashing behind him, uprooting trees in its wake. Whatever he and his brothers had thought they were up against, the massive creature that looked like a cross between an Ankylosaurus and a Triceratops wasn't it. And unlike those two dinosaurs, this guy was all about the red meat.

An hour before dusk, he, Dean and Sam had parked the Impala and trekked into the woods, theorizing, by all the evidence of the attacks, that nightfall was the predator's hunting time. It hadn't taken the three brothers long to pick up its trail, its massive footprint in the muddy ground baiting them. And with the vague impression that, though the creature was corporal enough, there was something ethereal about it too, they had split up. Sam and Alec to track the beast and Dean to scout out the creature's lair, to sever whatever bound the creature to this life.

Proving that they were almost too good at their assigned task, Alec and Sam had come upon the beast only to discover that wrought iron arrows only pinged off the creature's bony plates and spiked body. And shooting it with iron rounds got worse results, like pissing it off. When it bound forward, Alec and Sam shouted together, "Run!" Breaking off from each other, they peeled into the woods, headed to the areas of the thickest sections, hoping to block the beast from following.

'_Yeah, that's not working_,' Alec thought almost feeling the hot breath of the predator on his neck. But even as fear singed through him, he was grateful that the prehistory throwback had chosen him as its game, knew that Sam would have already been run to ground.

Realizing, with dread, that the creature had gone after Alec instead of him, Sam changed directions, knew he was far behind the beast but prayed Alec could stay far ahead of it. The wake the beast left through the forest stoked the fear in his chest, made his legs pump faster and his mind scramble for some way to kill the beast because, iron, it just wasn't doing it.

Stumbling over a root, Alec bodychecked a tree and gracelessly ended up in the muddy underbrush of the forest floor. He chanced a look over his shoulder and wished he hadn't. Two hundred yards behind him a massive foot cracked a downed tree in half and kept on coming. Scrambling to his feet, Alec slipped on the leaves but still bound forward, was running full out when the wall of green foliage changed to the grey hue of rock face. Bringing himself to a halt, he found he had hit a dead end. High, smooth walls of rock surrounded him on three sides and the beast was coming up quick behind.

Adrenaline and fear vying for supremacy, he forced himself to calm down, to look up, search the rock face for cracks that he could use to climb the wall. Found a fault line cutting across the stone fifteen feet up just as his keen senses told him his time was up, that the creature would be sinking his teeth into his back in mere seconds. Utilizing the abilities Manticore had hardwired into him, he leaped up, hands outstretched. And overshot the crack.

Panicked, his fingers clawed at the cruelly smooth surface without finding purchase and he began to slide down the rock front. Didn't need the outburst of the creature that was half roar, half cow call to know the creature was under him, was there waiting for his midnight snack to drop into his mouth. He was almost resigned to having his tombstone read, '_Here lies Alec Winchester killed by a dinosaur wannabe,_' though it seemed a little hopeful on his part, getting an ephitaph, especially when Winchesters usually made due with a cross made of sticks. Was surprised and grateful when his fingers on his right hand slipped into the thin crevice in the rock and his descent jerked to a halt, left him dangling there, one handedly. Then he did the exact thing they always told you not to. He looked down. Got a dentist's view of the interior of the beast's mouth.

Lungs burning and legs trembling, Sam burst onto the scene, found Alec clinging midway up a rockface, his feet just out of reach of the creature's snapping teeth. Giving the standard Winchester war cry of "Hey!!" he unloaded nearly a clip of ammo into the creature from spiked tail to seemingly vulnerable head as it spun to confront him.

When the creature turned in the confined space of the canyon, its tail impacted with the wall of rock and, for Alec's precarious grip, it was the equivalent of an earthquake. It jarred his hold loose. Falling, his nails scratched against the chalkboard of the rock but there was no hope of a save now, was only the determination to not actually land _on_ Dino's back, to have to go all bullmania.

As the creature's attention shifted to him, Sam blindly stepped backwards, kept his gun trained on the beast's head but ceased fire. He was trying to put a strategy into play when he saw Alec fall. "Alec!" he yelled in fear, hated that every path to his brother was roadblocked by the massive body. Knowing that Alec was down on the ground, was maybe hurt, unable to flee, Sam stowed his gun and picked up a solid, foot thick branch. Wanting to bait the creature to come after him, to focus on him instead of Alec, he stepped into the creature's personal space and walloped it in the face with the branch. Felt some satisfaction as the creature's head snapped to the left under his attack. But was unprepared when the beast bound forward an instant later, and, like a bull, used its head as a weapon. The hornless head caught Sam high on the side and as the impact knocked the air out of his chest, he felt himself tossed to the right. Had time enough to worry about Alec before he hit something hard and then nothing registered at all.

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Tbc

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Thanks for anyone who chose to read this offering.

Man, I've missed writing Alec as a brother and I'm so honored that people wanted more stories with him and Dean and Sam!!

Hope those in the US had an awesome Thanksgiving and that everyone else is enjoying life too!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	2. Chapter 2 Nature vs nurture pt 2

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

Author's Notes: You guys are so wonderful for welcoming this AU back!! And as a thank you, I'm going to go ahead and post what I have ready. Hope you enjoy this next section…

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Chapter 2

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Loosing his last purchase on the rockface, beginning to free fall, Alec heard Sam call his name out in a panic and hated that he was a distraction for his brother. '_Sam don't worry about me! Focus on not getting yourself killed!_' Because falling from this height? He had done it before, had jumped_ down _from higher heights. He was poised to absorb the shock of meeting the forest floor, hard and fast. However, like they always said, it was the little things in life that could really trip you up. Like a small rock, practically a pebble, that shifted when he landed on it.

It was enough to twist his ankle, to skew his balance, to undo all of his genetic prowess. He fell like a cut tree, barely got his hands out to brace himself, still clocked his chin on the ground, felt his teeth tear into his lip. He was too stunned to move right away. Feeling the earth shake under him, he raised his head and was awash in the putrid breath of Dino as the beast began to lower its head toward him, anxious for his mealtime to begin.

Preparing to kick out at dino, even willing to punch the beast in the nose if it gave him a stay of execution from being a dino snack, Alec startled when a burning arrow sank into the beast's eye. The creature roared in agony, swung its head toward its attacker. And Alec's head swung the same way. Relief washed over him as he saw Dean running toward his location, crossbow in his steady hands and another burning arrow notched up.

Without breaking stride, his long legs lessening the range of his target, closing the distance between himself and his brothers, Dean sighted the new arrow and released it. His second arrow flew as true as the first, embedded deep into the creature's head. He watched in grim satisfaction as the beast stumbled and then dropped heavily to the ground, mercifully not landing on Alec. "Get back!" he bellowed, eyes on Alec a moment, making sure Alec understood, was unhurt enough to follow his order, before he slid to a stop by Sam, gripped his unconscious brother by the arm and hurriedly dragged him back from the beast.

Following Dean's command, Alec hurriedly crawled away from the burning, dead beast but wasn't far enough away that the surge of explosive heat and magical force didn't flatten him to the ground. Feeling the wave roll over him, he raised his head, saw that only ash remained of the beast. Then his eyes flew to where he had seen his brothers last. Neither one was moving.

Flying to his feet, he quickly covered the distance that separated him from his family and dropped to his knees beside Sam, who was lying on his stomach, arm out flung. "Sam!" he called, gently rolling his brother over even as he called to Dean. "Dean!" was rewarded by a disgruntled groan from Dean and the crease appearing on his brother's brow. Turning his attention back to Sam, he breathed, "Sam?", shaking hand reaching for a pulse. Was relieved to find a strong beat under his fingertips. He looked to Dean, who was scrambling on all fours to Sam's side, worry in every line of his face. "His pulse is good," he announced, glad to be able to be the bearer of some good news.

Drawing up to Sam's other side, Dean took quick medical inventory of his brother, scowled at the blood peeking out from under Sam's jacket. Shifting the jacket, he saw that Sam's shirt was bloody on the left side of his torso. With infinite care, he lifted up Sam's shirt, glad to find that the blood hadn't time to dry and turn into a synthetic glue between Sam's flesh and the fabric of his shirt. That didn't at all mean that he was pleased to see Sam bleeding, to have his fingers find the small puncture wound on his brother's side. He knew the wound wasn't serious, but, to him, his brother bleeding, no matter how much or how little, was bad.

Dean started doing the standard reassurances to himself, telling himself that Sam had had worse before, heck just two weeks before, as he peeled off his coat and his outershirt . Pressing his shirt against Sam's wound, hard, he wasn't sure if he was relieved or worried when his brother didn't react to the increased pressure. His eyes flickered between Sam's motionless face and the spread of red across the makeshift pressure bandage. "Sammy?" his brother's name an entreaty and a question rolled into one breath. But Sam remained still, didn't blink an eyelash. Cursing himself for not getting there sooner, Dean clenched his jaw a moment before turning to Alec, ready to inform him of his medical diagnosis. Besides the fear in Alec's eyes, Dean noted the blood on his little brother's lips. He amended his earlier internal statement: _Either_ of his brothers bleeding, no matter how much or how little, was bad in his book.

"His wound's not deep," Dean assured, his eyes meeting Alec's wide eyed concerned gaze. Had learned that Alec could be as protective as he was, would not answer his next question, at all, if he wasn't certain Sam would be alright. "Are you alright? It get you?" he demanded, worry and anger turning his voice rough, demanding. But, in contrast, the hand that he reached out to grab Alec's jacket was gentle, desperate, gave him the physical tie to his brother like he required just then.

Dean's hand moved from Alec's coat lapel to the side of his face and Dean urgently called, "Alec?" finally snapping Alec out of his trance.

Nodding, Alec swallowed, stumbled over his reply, "I'm alright…fine," but his eyes dropped to Sam. Sam who wasn't moving, who had come to his rescue, who was hurt because of his inadequacies.

Gauging that Alec was telling the truth, wasn't just fronting strength, Dean looked over Alec's shoulder to the black soot remains of the beast. Threw a silent curse at the Jurassic Park escapee for daring to go after his brothers before he refocused on Sam, announced, "Alright. I'll carry Sam. We hustle and we'll be out of here before it gets too dark."

"I can…" Alec began to offer but Dean handed the crossbow to him and was already reaching down for Sam. Silently Alec watched as Dean fisted Sam's jacket in his grip, pulled Sam's limp body upright, then ducked down and gently hauled Sam onto his shoulder. Did it like it was second nature to him. '_Probably was'_, Alec realized. Then Dean got his feet under him and stood, made Sam's 6'4" frame look easy to balance in his grasp. Dean nodded to him and then began to walk unerringly toward where they had left the Impala, nearly a mile away.

Alec didn't offer his assistance again, knew it would be refused. Didn't resent Dean's rejection but instead found it strangely reassuring, proof that things were normal, would be OK. Because Dean stubbornly protecting his brother all by himself? It wasn't about lack of trust. It was simply Dean's nature.

Instead of straggling, uselessly, behind Dean and his beloved cargo, Alec blurred in front of Dean, began blazing the trail, holding back branches, notifying Dean of roots underfoot and downed trees to be maneuvered over. He couldn't help spare glances behind him, to Dean's sweating but determined face, to the dangling body of Sam. Wished Sam would wake up, wished Dean would allow him at least to take a turn at carrying Sam to give him a break, was losing hope that either would happen.

"So that thing, what did you call it?" Alec asked, decided conversation couldn't make the tension worse.

"It wasn't what we thought it was. Simple iron wasn't taking it down," Dean bitterly proclaimed, angry that he hadn't gotten it right, that Sam had gotten hurt while he was off trying to track down the beast's lair. He had been bent down, trying to pick up the trail when gunfire had vibrated in the air, telling him that plan one had gone up in smoke and plan two was sounding like a dud too. He had put every once of power he had in running through the woods, tracking the origin of the gunfire, of getting to his brothers before it was too late.

"You know, I noticed that. Especially after the thing practically grinned at Sam and I when our arrows pinged off of its armored hide," Alec sarcastically shot back, frustrated that the false belief had ended up with Sam thinking he should risk his own life to protect him. Because it was still too new to him, even after nine months: having brothers, being shown time and again that they would willingly risk their lives to save him. Every day if necessary. And some hunts had made that a necessary. Needing to be rescued? His brothers getting hurt, practically every hunt? He hated it, couldn't see it as commonplace, not somehow his fault, happening because of his failings. It made the last few months the most stressful…the most wonderful time of his entire life. "So how did you know the flaming arrow thing would work?" he asked, because telling Dean he was sorry Sam was hurt because of his actions would get him a gruff denial and encourage Dean to heap more guilt on his own shoulders for not being there earlier. For Dean, saving his brothers' lives wasn't enough, he wanted to protect them from any and all harm too.

"Didn't know," Dean gruffly admitted, gave a smirk when Alec's head swiveled back to him in surprise. "But I figured it was worth a shot."

"Or two," Alec smart-alecked back, getting an eye roll from Dean. "Sam…he doing OK?"

Dean didn't have to check Sam's vitals to know his brother was still unconscious, wasn't going to be complaining about the carrying thing right then. Had come to know Sam's body's signals better than his own. And what Sam's body was telling him with the tempo of Sam's breathing, the rhythm of Sam's heart against his back and the loose limbed dangle over his shoulder, was that Sam wasn't waking up for a while, wasn't severely hurt but was entombed in unconsciousness. For Dean, that wasn't good enough, made his own heart thud painfully, fearful in his chest. A quiet, brooding Sam was something he could work with. A hurt, unconscious Sam was down right unacceptable. But he told himself Sam just needed an hour or so then he would come around, once they got him back to the motel, cleaned up his wound, put some ice on the bump on his head that he had felt when he slid his hand under Sam's head before he lifted his little brother onto his shoulders. Then Sam would come around, give that groggy call of his name, search the room for him if he wasn't in his immediate line of sight. Only then would Dean be able to breathe deeply, to let the tension in his muscles fade, allow himself to drop his walls and just appreciate the solidness of his brother's presence.

"Dean?" Alec worriedly tried to draw his brother's attention. He stepped off the trail so that he could turn to see Dean, could read the truth Dean wasn't speaking.

Alec's voice brought Dean back to the here and now and he almost smiled, knew that he wouldn't be alone in his vigil. Alec would be there, worrying with him, giving him strength, steadying him. "He'll be fine," Dean stated more than reassured because there was no way Sam wouldn't be alright, there was no other possibility he would even consider. "He'll come around after we get him back to the motel, stitch up his side, get some pills in him," he said, shifting Sam in his hold, tightening his grip as if wanting Sam to know he was there, that he had him, wasn't letting him go.

"You want me to take him for awhile," Alec offered again, sensing Dean's fatigue mingled with his unflagging determination, knew his brother would walk himself to death to get their brother to safety.

"I got him," Dean replied, voice gruffer than he wanted. His eyes fell to Alec, wanting his brother to know he wasn't saying Alec couldn't be trusted, wasn't trusted, simply that this was his duty, his honor and he wasn't going to relinquish it, not even to Alec. Like he hadn't to his Dad on so many occasions during a hunt. He wanted to do this for Sam, needed to for his own peace of mind. But Alec's eyes didn't darken with hurt but instead there was understanding in the green eyes. Nodding, Alec stepped into the lead again without making the offer again.

And Dean was grateful that, like Sam, Alec _got _him. He didn't need to use a thousand words to explain himself, or his actions to his brothers. Wasn't required to reveal his vulnerabilities, to empty his emotional pockets like he was undergoing a police search. Sam, and now Alec, they knew his tripwires. And, to his amazement, they purposefully didn't cross over them. Had even seen them make sure that no one else did either. But the idiots hadn't figured out yet that, the best way to protect him? It was by not letting themselves get hurt.

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Sitting on the bed by Sam's too long legs, Dean brushed the wet cloth over Sam's forehead, down his flushed cheeks, wishing for a sign that his brother was clawing his way back to consciousness. Could hear Alec's fingers clicking over the keys of the laptop, searching for something that would account for Sam's five hour nap. Could detect his brother's frustration without looking at him. "Nothing, huh?"

"I pulled up every lore out there on a beast meeting ugly's description, even went to WebMD," Alec answered with unveiled aggravation. "I mean if it's not a concussion…"

"Which it's not," Dean cut in, having checked Sam's pupils himself.

"Well, then we're off the chart," Alec concluded, hand running through his hair before he turned to look across the room, to Dean's stiff posture on the bed and Sam's too limp one. He watched in some awe at the tenderness with which Dean traced Sam's hair with his hand and then rubbed his knuckles down Sam's cheek, gauging his brother's elevated temperature and connecting Sam to him in one gentle sweep. This Dean was a stranger to him, was the brother who had had to be a mother to Sam during their youth. Was someone who couldn't hide his love, not when his brother was hurting. And Alec wanted to do something to help Sam, to help them both. Wanted to rush in and save the day again like he had with the hellhounds. But was coming up empty, useless. Hadn't even stitched up Sam's side, had stood there and watched Dean wash the wound in holy water before putting in the stitches with skill that rivaled a doctor's. Knew, unlike his own training, Dean's had come out of necessity: to save Sam, to save his father's life. Not to please some coldblooded military leaders who held his leash. And did it with tenderness that no one at Manticore, engineered or born alike, could boast.

Feeling the feverish heat emanating from Sam's skin, Dean railed at himself for missing something, for allowing Sam to be hurt in the first place. It was his job to protect Sam. To protect both of his brothers. And he had failed today. Sam was proof of that, the blood stained shirt he had cut off of Sam attested to that, each stitch he made cemented it. But nothing brought it home more than Sam's unresponsiveness, hour after hour. "Sammy," he quietly beckoned, leaning closer, hand cupping his brother' face. "Time to wake up, Dude." And he gave it a moment, dared to let hope have a shot..only to feel it flicker out when Sam didn't respond. Reluctantly slipping his hand free of Sam's face, he gave Sam one more look and then he stood up, purposefully crossed the room to where his coat lay carelessly deposited on a chair. He shrugged into it. Then his eyes went to Alec. "Take care of Sam," he ordered as he headed for the door.

"What?! Wait! Where are you going Dean?" Alec stammered, coming to his feet unprepared for this change in scene.

Eyes meeting Alec's, Dean stated, hand already wrapped around the handle of the door. "We missed something, doing something. I'm going back to the forest to figure it out."

"We don't even know what we killed for sure. You think it's got some hold over Sam?" Alec asked, still trying to catch onto all the ins and outs of hunting.

"Only thing that makes any sense," Dean said, revealing his frustration and guilt.

"You burned it, what more can you do?"

"Something," Dean shot back sharply, hated that Alec flinched at the tone. "Sorry, man. I don't mean to snap at you.."

"But you're worried," Alec softly finished, understanding in his tone and forgiveness in his gaze.

"And then some," Dean admitted, his eyes sliding to Sam before again finding Alec's eyes. "If his fever spikes too high, take him to the hospital," he commanded and then opened the door, wasn't that surprised to find Alec latching onto his arm. With a longsuffering sigh, knowing what was coming, he faced his little brother. "Yes, I'll be careful."

But Alec's words weren't about fears. "I should go. I can find my way back to the spot in the forest better than you can in the dark," he insisted, though he was only speaking a small part of the reason that he wanted to be the one to go. The greater reason was that he wanted to do _something_ to help Sam, especially since it was his fault Sam got hurt in the first place.

"No," Dean gruffly refused, lead hunter persona coming to the forefront. "I don't know what I'm even looking for but I'll know it when I see it." And he made to pull his arm from Alec's hold, gave a low growl when Alec didn't relinquish his grip. Eyeing his brother with annoyance, he growled, "Alec, I've wasted enough time already."

"Be careful," Alec drawled out sternly, because one brother hurt was one too many. Getting a nod from Dean, he released Dean's arm and watched his brother slip out the door. For a moment he let his hand rest against the wood of the closed door. Then he turned to Sam, exhaled loudly. "Well, that leaves _us_ sitting back in the motel room sitting on our hands." Approaching Sam's side, his eyes were fixed on his brother's flushed features. "You know, we could get him back right now if you wake up," he suggested, thumb pointing to the door at his back, to Dean unseen approaching the Impala.

At Sam's unresponsiveness, Alec sighed and sank down on the side of Sam's bed, felt something tighten in him as he heard the Impala's engine catch in the parking lot. Picking up the wet cloth Dean had been using, Alec dabbed at Sam's forehead, murmured, "Dean's better at this, I know." He shut his eyes as he detected the Impala pulling out of the motel parking lot, then roaring down the highway. Then the audible link to his brother faded away, was replaced with heavy silence.

Opening his eyes, he stroked the cloth down Sam's flushed cheek and slid his hand in his brother's slack one. "Did I ever tell you about being Joshua's art dealer?" When Sam didn't protest the change in topic, Alec began to talk, his voice low and calm, like Sam had asked for storytime, like Alec wouldn't pay a million dollars for Sam to grumble a protest. But when no protest was made, when Sam lay as still under his hand as he had Dean's, Alec shoved down his worry and concentrated on keeping Sam tied to him, "No? Well, no shocker that it started out with me thinking I could make a fast buck."

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TBC

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Again, thanks to all the readers and I smiled, widely, at each and every review!! Thank you for your enthusiasm for the three brothers.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	3. Chapter 3: Nature Vs Nurture pt 3

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

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Chapter 3

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The flashlight was a weak guide through the forest blanketed in the darkness of the midnight hours, leaving Dean blinded on all sides except straight ahead. At first, he didn't let the minor inconvenience of not seeing what was in his path slow down his jog. But after tripping over underbrush and downed trees five times, the last causing him to end up sprawled out on the ground, he punched the forest floor in frustration before he got to his feet. Ordering himself to calm down, telling himself that it would do Sam no good if he broke his leg, he gripped the flashlight tighter and forced himself to walk, to not let fear override common sense, to not let his guard down when it needed to be at its highest, not just to protect himself but to ensure that he found whatever mojo the creature still had over Sam and sever the ties.

But caution made the going painfully slow. And the compass checks, though necessary to keep himself headed in the right direction, were tedious. His father had taught him old school procedures and he would stack that knowledge over a geek with a GPS anytime. But a satellite phone? That was one technological wonder he wished he had right then. Wanted to be able to call Alec, to know if Sam was any better. But old school was old school. There was nothing he could do but hurry up and find whatever ties that dino still had on Sam and then wait to talk to Alec until he was out of the forest, could get cell reception again.

So maybe old school sucked.

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It felt like a Saturday morning when he was a kid. When he wasn't yanked from sleep but awareness was allowed to wash over him with its small overtones: rustling in the motel room, the clanking of dishes, sometimes the ramble of the familiar, loved voices of his father and Dean.

Now, on the brink of consciousness, the words took some time to understand but Sam didn't have any trouble identifying the baritone of his brother's voice. It was too hardwired into his world, was practically more familiar to him than his own voice, was certainly more treasured.

He reacted to Dean's voice. Well, he _thought_ he had reacted to it anyway, had wanted to. But when his brother called out "Sammy" in that tone of fear and need, implored, "Time to wake up, Dude" he knew that whatever signals he was sending his body were short circuiting, weren't breaching the surface. It left him with nothing to do but listen to the voices around him, talking about him.

Dean's "Take care of Sam" flared warning bells in his head because he knew what it was heralding: Dean leaving. And regardless of what Dean thought, he was rarely ok with that, especially when he knew his brother was probably going to go off and do something reckless.  
Alec's "What?! Wait! Where are you going Dean?" sent relief spiraling in him because, though his little brother's voice was tinged with surprise and alarm, there was no inflection of pain. Sam prayed that meant Alec had not suffered an injury from his fall or any wounds from the creature.

Relegated to eavesdropper, he heard Dean and Alec's conversation, knew that it made logical sense that something was keeping him under, in a paralysis. However, that didn't mean he liked the idea of Dean tramping back into the woods, alone. Apparently neither did Alec. And Alec's suggestion that he go in Dean's place?! No surprise that it was summarily shut down. Silently, because it was the only way he could presently vote, Sam sided with Dean. Knew that Dean would know what he was looking for, knew what could still hold some of the creature's mojo. And Dean's directional abilities? They were unmatched, even by their father's.

All that logic? It didn't stop Sam from wanting desperately to snap out of it, to do something, to say something to stop Dean from leaving, from venturing back into the woods. His mind was already conjuring up images of Dean facing off with a second dinosaur creature, but alone this time. Or Dean getting infected with the some toxin coursing through his own body at the moment and no backup there to find him, to get him back to the relative comfort of a motel. Not to mention the dangers associated with nature itself that his brother always scoffed at. As if nature wasn't worth his fear if it didn't have the pedigree to go the extra mile and be super.

In his world consisting of sound alone, the click of a door shutting was loud to him, final. Though he tried not to make it into something psychological, to associate it with the too many times that he had been separated from his brother, wondering if they would see each other again, he felt panic slice through him. That coupled with the possibilities of his own fate: namely being in a coma, being permanently paralyzed, dying, it made him wonder if he could hyperventilate in his condition. Was thinking he was about to seriously test that threshold when Alec spoke, his voice drawing near. The sound of his youngest brother's voice, it wielded the power to calm him down, to anchor him, to give him the leverage to stifle his fears.

"Well, that leaves _us_ sitting back in the motel room sitting on our hands."

Internally Sam smirked, knew that Alec felt like he did about Dean's venturing out alone.

After a beat of silence Alec said, "You know, we could get him back right now if you wake up," and he could hear the worry in his brother's tone, the overwhelming desire to stop Dean from leaving.

And Sam tried, crap, he tried to move, to open his eyes, to offer up a protest, even a groan. But he failed spectacularly. Alec, though, didn't curse his unresponsiveness, instead his brother's voice turned apologetic and gentle. And when Alec slipped into storytime, Sam knew that, that whatever was going on with him, however afraid he was for himself, for Dean, Alec was there, wasn't going anywhere, had his back, would have Dean's too if the need arose.

Sam would have left out a trembling laugh of relief if such things weren't beyond him right then. '_Thank you Alec for sticking with us, for not going back to TC. Because no matter how badly they need you, Dean and I, we need you with us more.'_

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Dean found the sounds of the forest annoyingly loud. Every crunch of branch under foot, every rustle of the leaves, even the hoot of the owl who seemed to be keeping pace with him, it all grated on his last nerve, making him miss the eerie quiet that had permeated the forest earlier, before he had taken down the alpha in the predator chain. Course he also missed the weak rays of sunlight to let him see and, oh yeah, his brothers' presence.

Realized starkly how accustomed he had come to having them with him, at being able to turn to his side and see one of them. This tonight, going it alone, it reminded him of his solo hunts, of the pit in his stomach he always had knowing that, no one had his back, that if he went down, no one would be there to defend him until he could stand again, that if the worse happened, more than likely no one would even know where to find his body. Man, he didn't miss those days. Not once. Wasn't going to go back to that, not ever. Sam was going to be fine, he would make sure of it. And Alec, he didn't seem inclined to bail on him. No, this wasn't like hunting alone because he had people waiting on him, counting on him to come back. And knowing his brothers, they even expected him to come back unscathed.

Determinedly picking up his pace, he knew that he had to be close to where he had picked up dino's trail earlier, before gunshots had sent him running for his brothers' sides. His instincts, like before were telling that dino's lair was close. And somewhere in that lair he hoped to find and destroy whatever was keeping the creature's influence on Sam functioning. Whether it was DNA remains or maybe a severed limb because, who knew, the thing might be like a salamander, might have the ability to regenerate limbs. Though, that thought? Gross on so many levels. But whatever it was, he would torch it. And if dino had a mate waiting at home for its return…it would be joining its lover in the hereafter.

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Though his voice was getting hoarse, Alec refused to stop talking, to let Sam believe that he was alone, even for a moment. Didn't want Sam to think that he was just going to sit there and let him linger in limbo, that he wasn't going to pull him back or annoy him back to his side. And, though he knew from personal experience that there was no cell reception in the forest they had trudged through earlier in the day, it didn't make him look any less longingly at his cell phone on the stand by the bed, wishing that Dean would call and tell him that he was Ok, that he had made it back to the Impala at least. Though he had heard that no news was supposed to be good news, he wasn't buying it, especially with Sam unresponsive and hovering on the precipice of a temperature of 103 and Dean out there in the woods, alone. So in his opinion, no news sucked.

Shoving his worry into an internal lockbox, he continued the tale he was regaling Sam with, "It's not like I had seen the other Star Wars movies so the footage was just a payday for me. In hindsight, I should have peeked at it, seen what the hype was about." Having slipped his hand in Sam's hand awhile ago and having intermittingly given Sam's hand a squeeze, he repeated that gesture now. Nearly jumped when his hand was weakly squeezed back. "Sam?!" he urgently beckoned, gripping tighter to his brother's hand, face leaning closer to Sam's. "Wake up, big brother. I'm running out of amusing, non-incriminating tales here……" he breathlessly bade.

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At his success, no matter how little a success it was, had Sam celebrating. He wasn't paralyzed, wasn't dying because he had actually _felt _Alec's hand slip into his. Had instinctively squeezed the grip back. And, unlike the million times before, this time his muscles actually deemed to obey him.

Instantly he began to dust off the do list that he had drawn up in his head:

**One**: Move ( C_heck!_)

**Two**: Open his eyes (_Ok that wasn't happening instantly but he was wading through the mental roadblocks, was determined to have some blinking action happen real soon)_

**Three**: Make sure that Alec was unhurt with his own eyes (_Complete number two above before proceeding to this item) _

**Four:** Get Dean back home (_Which was easier accomplished if the below number five was feasible)_

**Five:** Talk. (_Basically croak_ _out his brother's name, tell Alec that he had had enough time to figure things out, to know that his enforced rest was most likely due to science rather than due to their usual fantasy reasons. That the creature probably had a neurotoxin in its skin that affected him and was now wearing off, that Dean's scavenger hunt was an unnecessary risk.)_

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Trying to not feel disappointed that Sam's didn't climb immediately to consciousness, Alec gripped Sam's hand tighter, was more than willing to go all girlie if it got Sam back with him. Knew that, for all of Dean's grumblings, he didn't hesitate to touch his little brothers if he sensed they needed that from him. Because of course, it would never be because _Dean_ needed to initiate the physical connection…no never.

But Alec was not in denial of his needs, knew that his grip on Sam's hand, the hand he rested over Sam's heart, it had as much to do with his needs as with Sam's. "Easy, Sam. Take your time, much as you need, I'll be here," he soothingly offered even as he knew he didn't want Sam to dilly dally, had had enough of still, silent Sam. "Course Dean, he's not as patient as I am. When he blows through that door you better be sitting up, wearing your 'I'm fine where have you been' look. Me wearing that look ticks him off but you wearing it he takes it in stride. Guess that's because he's seen it so often, doesn't even bother fighting against it anymore. Ok, I'm rambling…"

"'kay," Sam breathed, eyes finally fluttering open, was rewarded with the sight of Alec sitting on his bed at his side.

Exhaling in relief and knowing that a smile was spreading across his face, Alec endearingly said, "Sam." Felt the worry that Sam would be confused, would think he was Dean, would ask for Dean and be panicked if his brother wasn't there fading at the look in Sam's eyes as they met his, as he instantly recognized him, seemed glad to see him.

"Alec.." Sam slurred, gripping tighter to the hand in his own, eyes glued to his little brother's face. "You …alright?" he managed to force out between the uncoordinated workings of his tongue because, though Alec didn't appear hurt, there was dark smudges under his eyes and a worry emanating off of him.

Warmth and relief surged through Alec at Sam's concern for him. Felt chagrined under Sam's affectionate gaze that he had thought, for even a moment, that his brother would belittle him or Dean by confusing the two of them, no matter the state that he was in. "Yeah, Sam. I'm fine, thanks to you," he reassured, finding his voice. "The real question is, how are you? You've been playing sleeping beauty all night."

"Toxins are…wearing off," Sam replied, swallowing, cursing the dryness in his throat.

Retrieving a water glass off the nightstand, Alec gently slid his hand under Sam's head and lifted it just high enough so Sam could take a sip from the glass he held without fear of choking.

To Sam, it felt like he had traversed a desert, hadn't the luxury of water for days instead of mere hours. Almost groaned in protest when Alec pulled the glass back, managed to weakly raise his hand as if to take the waterglass himself but Alec was sitting it down.

"Toxins?" Alec repeated, gently resettling Sam's head on the pillow and placing the glass back onto the night stand, eyes doing a hit and run with his still silent cell phone.

Finding that the water had not only lubricated his vocal cords but seemed to help in breaking down the sluggishness he felt, Sam focused on Alec more clearly. "Thing must have had ….neurotoxins… in its system, like a …"

"Rough skinned newt?" Alec supplied readily, like a lightbulb was coming on over his head.

Sam's brow creased as he replied, "I was going to say …a wasp but Ok…" wondering in that moment if Alec wouldn't soon replace him as resident geekboy.

At Sam's obvious surprise at his knowledge, Alec smirked, "One of my Manticore comrades has some…let's say interesting abilities after getting some of the newt's DNA." At Sam's raised eyebrow of interest, he added on, "Let's just say you don't want to high five him …" as he got up, crossed over to the first aid kit lying on the room's unused bed. "I think we have an antivenom in here that we can dilute and use to get rid of the effects of the toxin."

Able to turn his head and track Alec, Sam was a little frustrated his brother didn't realized that there was a more pressing matter to be worried about than his slow motor skills. "Tell Dean to come back."

Though he had pegged it right that Sam's thoughts wouldn't stray long before settling on Dean, Alec's head still swung to Sam in surprise, "How did you know…."

"Hearing came back first," Sam answered even before Alec could form the words of his question. "Get him back here…"

Recognizing Sam's distress, Alec turned to face his brother. "Dean killed dino…"

"Dino?"

"The dinosaur…the creature. The only thing Dean's in danger of out there is getting lost and we both know that he could use a lesson in humility," Alec smirked, didn't want his own misgivings about Dean's venture in the woods to be visible to Sam.

Sam knew that he should be feeling relief, knowing that the creature was dead but something wasn't sitting right with him, never did when Dean was somewhere potentially dangerous without him. Putting his trembling hands on the mattress, he shifted upright, hated that black spot peppered his vision, was secretly glad strong hands wrapped around his arms and kept him upright. Head bowing against Alec's shoulder, he closed his eyes, breathed, "Dean won't come back until he thinks he's broken whatever hold the creature has over me."

And Alec couldn't refute that, knew it was the truth. Dean would stay out there days, _months_ if he had to, searching. Not knowing that Sam was alright, didn't need him hiking through the woods anymore, needed him, instead, back at his side. "I can't reach him by phone," he announced, wasn't sure of his next plan of action because leaving Sam this vulnerable wasn't high on his to do list. But letting Dean stay out in the woods with his worry for Sam maybe making him careless, that wasn't his favorite option either.

In resolve, Sam raised his head, met his brother's gaze head on. "Then we have to go get him."

Knowing that arguing the "we" was pointless, Alec reassured, "Sam, Dean's used to being in the woods at night. It's kind of your SOP, right? Like Dean says, the freaks come out at night," he smirked, hoping to lessen the fear in Sam's eyes.

"He's _alone_, Alec," Sam pointed out, like that was more than proof enough. And it was. Neither one wanting to point out how many bad things could happen at night, or in a dark forest, or when Dean was alone.

"Alright, I'll give you the antivenom and then I'll go get Dean," Alec stated, starting to ease Sam back onto the bed but his brother's hands found the strength to latch onto his shirt.

"We'll go get Dean," Sam corrected, forcing his hands to tighten on Alec's shirt, to ensure that his brother didn't leave him behind, like Dean had already.

"Sam you can barely move!" Alec shot back because, though he understood Sam's feelings, common sense had to come into play too.

"Alec, you're my brother but I'll go right through you if I have to," Sam growled, unable to contemplate staying behind while another one of his brothers walked out the door, maybe put himself in danger because of him. And besides, Dean had been right all along: being alone stank.

"Go through me?" Alec scoffed, feeling foolish that he had thought that logic would ever enter the equation when it came to his family. "More like you're going to have to follow my lead," and Sam's weak smile, it beat the heck out of rationality, every time.

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He smelled it before he saw anything. Knew that nothing alive could possible smell that puke-inducingly bad. Slipping the crossbow off his shoulder, Dean strung up an arrow but didn't light it, not yet. Though the flashlight's ability to barely diminish the inky darkness of the forest made the idea of a burning arrow seem like sound thinking, he wasn't quite ready to send out a beacon on his position.

Trying to balance the crossbow one handedly while shining the flashlight ahead, he took a deep breath and followed the pungent smells of carcasses. Breaking through the thicket of forest, he could see the strewn remains of, what he hoped was just animal, on the ground. Tightening his grip on the cross bow and sliding his other hand underneath to steady it, he stepped out of the cover of the forest into the clearing and advanced toward the overhang of a rockface. Was prepared to go another round of Robin Hood with one of The Land of the Lost's creatures…but not for two bears, probably weighting in at around three hundred pounds each, and their brood of cubs, feasting off of dino's leftovers of animal carcasses. If the closest Momma bear's ferocious growl and her lumbering forward was any indication, his intrusion wasn't being met with enthusiasm.

And in that moment, he remembered Sam lecturing him on bear safety before they headed into the forest at Lost Creek, Colorado. Because, Sam might have seemed all about finding their father, but he was also about making sure his big brother didn't become an item on a bear buffet. Had even joked that the rules for not inciting a bear to attack were simple enough for even him to follow:

**Don't** surprise a bear at close range

**Don't** interrupt them when they are eating

**And never, ever** get near them when they have young with them.

'_Crap. Crap! CRAP_!' Dean thought as he took a step backwards as the bear gained distance on him and the other momma bear started forward. Knowing that running away wasn't an option, climbing a tree was out and, even if he was game to take out the one bear, the second momma bear would be upon him before he could sight another arrow. '_Guess the rules weren't simple enough for me, Sammy.'_

Quickly dropping his flashlight, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his lighter and ignited the oil doused arrow. Watched over the flame as the bear hesitated but could see in his peripheral vision that the second bear had finally decided he was a threat worthy of her interest and was drawing closer. He took a step back, contemplated trying to kill the closest bear and getting another arrow in place before the second bear was on him, railed at himself for not tucking his gun in his waist instead of his backpack. Had forgotten that there were other things to be afraid of than just the supernatural.

Running plan Bs through his head, he resolved that he wasn't going to lay down in a fetal position, wasn't going out like a momma's boy. Raising his arms above his head, he began to yell the top of his lungs. "Screw you bears!! I get that you're trying to protect your family. Well so am I! I'm not leaving! You hear me!! I'm not leaving until I get what I came for…whatever that is! So you can do all the growling and swiping at me you want to but I'm not leaving!"

Even as the second bear kept coming, let out a roar, he held his position, wasn't leaving, not when it was a good chance that whatever he needed to help Sam was right there. He just wasn't going to back down. Couldn't. Not when Sam's life was in the balance. For his family, he had faced off with things way worse than some hairy mothers wanting to make him a snack for their kids.

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At the sound of Dean's raised voice echoing through the woods, Alec was conflicted between feeling panic and relief. Didn't waste time wondering which should prevail as he ran toward his brother with all the speed Manticore had graced him with.

Whatever scene Alec had thought he would come upon, it wasn't this one: Dean, hands in the air, yelling, having a standoff with two growling, roaring bears that were less than two yards away from him. Instincts kick in first, before common sense, before training, Alec ran forward, got between Dean and the two bears. Was raising his gun when Dean gripped his arm from behind.

"No!" Dean ordered, pulling Alec's gun down even as he tried to pull Alec back away from the bears. But his brother's stance wasn't budging. It almost rankled that Alec was using his strength against him, would have if he didn't know that Alec was doing it _for him_.

"Why not!?" Alec demanded, pulling his arm from Dean's grasp and resighting on the predators who had the nerve to think his brother was their prey.

"They aren't evil," Dean snapped, his many moral debates with Sam coming back full force.

"What?" Alec incredulously sputtered, gave the second bear that was gaining ground a dark warning, glare. Knew that this was no time for a debate, knew just as well that he really didn't want to defy Dean, not if he didn't have to.

"We kill what's evil," Dean explained, was going to set up to be even with Alec, wanted the risk to be even but Alec's arm shot out, fisted in his jacket, held him back.

"Maybe you didn't notice but they're eyeing you up like you're a midnight snack, Dean!" Alec thundered, calculated which best to take down first. But the tone of Dean's reply made the calculations moot.

"Don't kill them, Alec. Please," Dean implored, knew that he couldn't get past Alec, wouldn't be able to again throw off Alec's aim, that all he had to sway his brother's mind was his words.

But his words were enough for Alec. Though that didn't stop him from griping about conceding to his brother's wishes. "Ah for the love of…It's like I'm hunting with Max and her bleeding heart." Addressing the bears, he lowly command, "Alright pals…back off or I'll…gee, what will my big brother let me do to you…braid your fur?"

"Alec!" Dean shouted in warning as the bears each let out a roar and stepped closer.

With the bears threatening to not only chow down on him but go through him to get to Dean, Alec turned feral, gave free reign to his animal DNA.

A growl came out of him, ferocious and lethal and inhuman as he took a step forward. His own charge would be no bluff. But Dean's sudden hold on his jacket stopped his advance, held him back, not by strength but because of loyalty. Unleashing another growl low in his throat, he stared down the bears, allowed them to conclude that he wasn't that different from the wolves that they have come up against and lost.

When the bears fell quiet and then turned around, lumbered back to their cubs as if he and Alec no longer existed, Dean stood there in shock but didn't loosen his grip on Alec's jacket, didn't want to lose that connection, didn't quite trust releasing his restraining hold on his brother, not just yet. It wasn't until Alec stepped back to his side and looked at him that he felt his tension ease.

Alec shrugged at his brother's wide-eyed expression of disbelief. "Sometimes a pack of wolves are alpha to bears."

"Wolves?" Dean croaked out.

"Yeah, you and me," Alec clarified with a proud smile, hand coming out to pat Dean on the chest. "Now let's get out of here."

"Sam…" Dean began, hope in his tone.

"Is fine. Is waiting for us in the car," Alec happily imparted.

Hardly believing the good news, Dean could stammered, "He's awake?"

"He thinks it was some neurotoxin that knocked him out, gave him temporary paralysis," Alec supplied, turning Dean around and prodded him into the woods, in the direction that he had left their brother, sulking in the car.

"Paralysis?" Dean repeated in concern even Alec grabbed him and steered him around a tree that, in the dark, he had almost walked right into.

Keeping his hand on his brother's elbow, Alec designated him lead as he told Dean Sam's theories. Silence fell and he could detect, through his physical connection on his brother, when Dean's adrenaline high began to flag under exhaustion. Shooting Dean a sideways look across the darkness, he gently taunted, "So I never knew you were such a nature lover." Gentle because he could sense that there was something serious under his brother's surface gesture to spare the bears. That there was always more, lots more, under the surface than what Dean projected.

"Enough things are dead because of me," Dean quietly stated, eyes ahead, his night time vision improving, sort of.

Alec's jaw clenched at the guilt he heard in his brother's tone. "A lot of people are alive because of you. Me and Sam included," he pointed out, wanted Dean to know that his goodness outweighed whatever evil he thought existed in himself.

Sliding his look to Alec, Dean didn't need to see his brother's face to know Alec was wearing his determined, you're-going-to-listen-and-accept-what-I-say expression. And he didn't dispute it, Alec's words. Knew that they were the truth, that stacked up against his failures, they were enough to come out ahead in his book.

Dean wasn't sure how long that had been walking, was honestly too tired to do anything less than let Alec lead him back to Sam when Alec brought them both to a halt, whispered, "Wait. I hear something."

Before Alec can scout ahead, Dean grabbed his brother's arm, ignored Alec's glare and listened to the sounds that Alec had heard first. Then he called out, "Sam?" because Sam obediently staying in the car?! Yeah, right. Dean had tried that game and lost on too many occasions.

"Dean!" Sam's voice called out, his pure joy and relief cutting through the darkness better than a floodlight.

Turning to Alec, Dean smiled smugly, silently boasting that brotherly instincts trumped genetic augments every time, before he headed unerringly toward Sam. After a few minutes, he stepped into the beam of his brother's flashlight, broke free of Alec's guiding grip and stalked to Sam. "You alright?" he asked worriedly once he was close enough to see his brother's face in the backwash of the flashlight.

Sam nodded his head, but his eyes expressed something deeper than words ever could. That he was alright now that his two brothers had been returned to him.

Seeing the minuscule tremble in the hand that held the flashlight and the slight sway in his brother's stance, Dean quickly wrapped his arm around Sam's waist and turned them around, had taken only a step when he halted their forward motion and looked over his shoulder at Alec. "I could use some help here,"

Smiling, Alec slipped to Sam's other side, felt content when Sam's arm loped over his shoulder. Taking more than his share of his tall brother's weight, he guided them toward the waiting Impala. When Sam's hand squeezed his shoulder, he looked to Sam and saw his brother's relief, gratitude and happiness, knew the same emotions were reflected in his eyes. Was finally figuring out what Sam and Dean already knew: that maybe they don't have the safest family but it was worthy the pain, the first aid measures, the search and rescue missions, was even worth tapping into some of the more animalistic instincts hidden in his DNA. That he would do all that willingly, on every single hunt, if he had to. Because the desire to protect his family, to defend them, to save them by any means necessary, well that just ran in his family.

"Sam, I got an awesome Christmas gift idea for Dean: a bumper sticker for the Impala that reads '_I break for bears'_." Under Dean's heated glare and at Sam's confused tilt of his head, Alec beamed, because, getting one over on each other, that was a Winchester tradition, too.

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TBC ?

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Thanks for reading!

And I really valued all of your encouragement to continue with this AU.

I hope you enjoyed this tale and I hope that you would like more stories about the three brothers because I have some ideas pinging around in my head. I'll be tacking any upcoming tales for this AU under this title.

Have a wonderful Day! And in case, I don't write again before Christmas…

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Cheryl W.


	4. Chapter 4: Emergency Contact pt 1

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

Author's Note: Well I'm back to my usual stomping grounds: Hurt Dean fic. Of course there's Alec angst and a spot of Sam angst. Ok I admit this "chapter" is more a teaser than anything. Honestly I was hoping to do this as a one shot but I got wordy and that, in turn, got me stumped on the last part of the story. So I decided I would start sharing some of what I have done and see what you guys thought of it…

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Chapter 4: Emergency Contact

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Alec, still wondering how paper beat rock in his brothers' silly hand challenge game, begrudgingly performed the task his loss had doomed him to: research. Pulling another moldy ledger from the shelf, he trudged back to the table, intending to tediously seek out a lead on their ghost hunt. It was a welcome distraction when his cellphone interrupted the crypt-like quiet of the library.

He quickly flipped open the phone before the matronly librarian giving him the evil eye thought he needed yet another lecture about library protocol. Giving the older woman his best boyish smile, he answered the call, "Hello."

"Is this Alec Colt?"

At the name uttered by an unfamiliar no-nonsense female voice, his smile vanished instantly. Because that particular alias? It had been specifically established as a failsafe, for emergencies.

"Yeah…I'm Alec Colt," he nearly stammered, dread rushing over him, the last name tripping up his usually silver tongue. Found that his mind instantly flashed back to when Dean had established the alias for him.

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Sitting at a motel table, pieces of ID cards littering the Formica surface, Dean had looked over at Alec and asked out of the blue, "So what last name do you want?"

For a moment, Alec couldn't breathe, thought they had been through this before, that he had made his desire to be a Winchester clear, that Dean had already claimed he was one and there was no way out. But Manticore had taught him that there were tests in life that one had to pass, again and again, and to fail just once was unacceptable. "Winchester," he croaked out, hated that his tone wasn't confident, questioned as much as it demanded and pleaded.

Dean's gruff reprimand was instantaneous. "Dude, not your real last name. Your favorite alias." Then he had shook his head as if he was working with someone who needed to be told something time and time again 'till it sunk in, but a smile played on his lips and there was affection in his green gaze as it remained fixed on his youngest brother. No matter how long it took, he would get through to this brother, just like he always managed to get through to Sam. Little brothers were work, hard work and worth every single sweat and tear.

Touched by the way Dean had stated his legitimacy in his family so matter-of-factly, Alec struggled a few moments to fight down the urge to hug his brother, used that time to come up with a pseudonym name. "Colt," he announced, choosing a name as close to his "real" last name as he could get, and a name that his family was indebted to its namesake: Samuel Colt. And if his voice sounded thick for reasons not attributed to pleading this time, Dean didn't call him on it.

Though Dean had rolled his eyes at his choice, he hadn't given any verbal protests. Had dutiful spent the next hour creating IDs with his little brother's alias embossed on it. But when Dean had stalked over and handed the cards to Alec and Alec had reached for them, Dean pulled them back out of his reach, causing his brother's eyes to fly up to him in surprise and worry.

"This alias isn't for everyday use. It's only for emergencies: yours, mine, Sam's..even Bobby's," Dean had explained, serious as he always was when it came to protecting his family. "This is the name you'll go by if it's too dangerous to use the alias you're currently using on a gig or if you can't remember what ID you have on you."

Nodding in understanding, Alec had realized that being a Winchester was a lot like running a Manticore undercover op. Was confident he knew how to do what Dean was instructing him to do. After all, he was an old pro at stacking lie on top of lie, of fabricating backstories as if they were as true as the sun in the sky.

"And it's also the name they'll be looking for when they contact you," Dean lowly warned, knew that he couldn't shelter Alec from this anymore than he had been able to shelter Sam. That there was a cost to what they did and each of them needed to be prepared to face the worst or, at best, find a way around it.

"When who contacts me?" Alec asked, brow creased in confusion. Worry seeping over his prior confidence because, Dean looking away from him, speaking as he turned back to the table? It was a red flag.

"I don't know…" Dean shot back as if in exasperation, finding that he wasn't as ready to unload this on Alec as he thought he was. Still had the mentality he had with Sam: wanted to protect his little brother, even from the life they lived, the cost of such a life. '_Alec's no naïve college kid. He's a trained soldier. He knows how badly things can go wrong. You don't need to sugarcoat this for him of all people_,' he rationalized but it didn't help. He had had no better success on loosening his control, his protectiveness over Sam, though his brother was now taller than him and had been a big man on campus. But in the end, it didn't change how he felt. Knew that, no matter what Alec was, no matter what training he had undergone, he was still his brother, still his to protect. And his father had taught him that sometimes the best way to protect someone was to prepare them for their worst nightmare.

Knowing that his brother was sidestepping the question, Alec lightly pressed, "Dean, I need a little more intel here." He gave a laugh to cover the tightening in his gut for what this was leading up to.

Sighing, Dean swung around, faced Alec, decided to do the blunt routine. "Other hunters, hospitals, cops, feds…morgue." Watched with no satisfaction as Alec's features paled with each category, the last leaving him nearly white as a sheet. Instead of offering up denials, some fairy tale '_but we probably won't ever need these emergency procedures'_, he stated, "Sam and I and Bobby too…we all have a standard alias."

Swallowing and forcing himself to nod his head as if he accepted this doomed outlook to the future, Alec asked, "So what's your alias?" As if this was a fun conversation, brothers offering up confidences. But his voice sounded raw, even to his own ears.

Fighting to not flinch at Alec's tone, at the flash of dread in his brother's eyes, Dean instead smiled cockily and announced, "Dean Ford," as if the name had made him famous instead of an alias that would most likely mean the crap had hit the fan. When recognition didn't register in Alec's eyes, he had tried to explain. "After Harrison Ford?" he drawled, but when that clue also failed to get a lightbulb over his brother's head, he waved a hand of frustration and defeat at his brother, his expression surely stating that sometimes it was tough being the only cool one in the family. Had walked away then, left Alec holding numerous ID cards for Alec Colt, didn't see the way Alec wrapped his hand tightly around the cards and bowed his head, fought the dread that, like it or not, someday he would have to use the alias.

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The voice coming through Alec's cellphone broke through his thoughts, forced him to face up to whatever emergency was unfolding. "This is the ER at Bryant General Hospital. Dean Ford was brought in half an hour ago and you were listed as one of his emergency contacts."

His dread blossoming into raging panic, Alec felt lightheaded. "Brought in…? What happened? How badly is he hurt?" his mind throwing out a thousand scenarios, each one more dire than the last.

"The doctor is examining him now but since he's been unresponsive…"

"Unresponsive?!" Alec cut in, his voice sharp, sick at the thought of Dean not awake, not able to defend himself, not insisting that he was OK, not grumbling about the treatment they were forcing on him.

"Ah, yes, not awake," the hospital clerk explained, as if Alec didn't understand the terminology instead of being terrified by what it indicated. "We were hoping to learn more about his medical history, maybe have someone present to sign consent forms."

"Consent forms?" Alec repeated in horror but before the dingbat on the phone thought he needed that explained too, he forced himself to solder together his frayed nerves. "I'll be there in five minutes."

"That would be very good."

Alec was stalking for the door, about to disconnect the call when he whipped the phone back up to his ear, "Oh, wait. Where's the hospital located?" cursing himself for forgetting everything worthwhile Manticore had taught him about keeping a cool head, about not panicking no matter how wrong things were going. But even as the hospital address was rattled off and he swept out the library doors, he knew that some things were triggers, that he was going to react to them instinctively, no matter what: like someone taking a swing at him or his brothers being in danger.

And now he had one more undeniable trigger to add to the tally: being called Alec Colt. For all the good Samuel Colt had done, the ways he had inadvertently saved his family, Alec couldn't help but suddenly hate the man's last name.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading! I almost have the next part polished for publishing.

Hope everyone is having an awesome new year!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	5. Chapter 5: Emergency Contact pt 2

It Runs In the Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

Author's Note: I was soooo happy reading your reviews, was encouraged that you still wanted more of this AU and enjoyed my teaser opening!!! You guys are wonderful! And to return your kindness, here's the next part posted lickety-split.

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Chapter 5: Emergency Contact – It's Not Just History To Me

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Storming through the Emergency Room entrance, nearly cross checking a burly orderly in his haste to get inside, Alec headed to the admissions desk. Was frustrated to find that there were already five people ahead of him in line, waiting to talk to the clerk. Hand tapping his leg, he did a visual sweep of the ER, oblivious to anything and anyone that wasn't his brother. Coming up with no Dean and no leads on Dean, he shifted his focus to the elderly couple at the front of the line, could hear the wife telling the clerk about how Harry was having shortness of breath, hadn't followed his doctor's orders since the 80s and was too stubborn to quit smoking like she told him to do since they started dating back in the 1940s.

Alec's desire to cut ahead of the line and shove the little old lady and Harry out of his way intensified every second that he stood there, not knowing where his brother was, if he was alright, if he had woken up yet. The only thing that restrained him from that course of action was the thought that Dean wouldn't approve. Well, not if he did it because of his concern for _him_. '_Course if Sam was somewhere in this ER, or if I was, Dean would have bowled that couple over already.'_

Taking the middle ground between what Dean would do and what he _wanted_ to do, Alec stepped out of the line and walked right by the admissions desk into the ER ward. Eyes darting from side to side, behind curtains and around medical personnel, he advanced deeper into the ward, searching. Each person in a bed that wasn't Dean caused his heart to pound harder, his breath to come out of his lungs with more effort. Had him ominously contemplating the alternatives: that Dean had been taken up to surgery…or somewhere far worse than that. He was a breath or two away from hyperventilating when his prayers were answered. Dean. He saw Dean.

Stalking across the room, Alec took no notice that he almost ran over a nurse bearing a tray of syringes or the whish of his motion nearly spun around a slow moving patient or cared that the shove he gave an empty cart embedded the corner of the cart into the nearest wall. Had only thoughts for his brother, lying just beyond a pane of glass, his head sticking out from under too thin blankets, his eyes closed, his body still.

Pushing through the exam room door, he was at Dean's side a millisecond later. "Dean?" worry and relief and entreaty in his greeting as he laid his hand lightly on top of Dean's head, leaned close, eyes taking in his brother's paleness, the freckles that stood out on his nose and cheeks…just like they always did on him whenever he was feeling a little off. "Dean. Hey, it's Alec. I'm here," he announced, voice soft, tone trembling, creating an uncertainty about whether he was giving strength or seeking it.

"You must be Alec Colt."

Doing a half turn, Alec eyed up the male doctor, preempted the man's next words with his own. "How's my brother?" he demanded, hand still consciously resting on Dean's head even as his eyes pierced the mid forties year old doctor's stoic features like he was a living lie detector. A lethal one.

Taking note of the difference in last names of his patient and the man before him, the doctor didn't dispute the matter. Anyone with eyes could mark the resemblance, could peg them as brothers on sight. "Concussioned and bruised," he bluntly diagnosed, had come to know when the down and dirty details were the best approach.

"But he's going to be OK?" Alec prompted, edge to his voice, wanting reassurances instead of flippancy. This was his brother the doc was talking about, his brother that was unconscious, who wasn't pushing his hand away, who was just lying there, still, silent.

'_So like a few months ago, minus the gushing blood_,' Alec somberly compared, felt an ache go through him. 

Sensing that they were moving past the frank stage, were fast approaching the 'tell me everything' phase, the doctor expanded, "Once he regains consciousness, we'll know more. I want to run more tests after that, rule out some of the possible side effects he could suffer from the blow to the head."

"Blow to the head?" Alec repeated, instantly lifting his hand from Dean's head, concerned that his touch would aggravate his brother's injury. "Did he need stitches? Is there swelling? How did it happen??

"There was a cut on the back of his head. We put in seven stitches and there was outward swelling but no internal swelling. Bruises down his right side and his hip but nothing broken. As for the details of what happened…" the doctor drawled, pulling out the chart. His lips moved silently for a moment as he read. "Yeah, here it is. He was found passed out on Mulbren Street. No signs of his attacker."

At the mention of the street name, Alec's jaw clenched. Mulbren Street was where Dean was checking on a lead about their ghost about town. '_Guess he found our ghost's home base. Yippee,' _Alec sardonically concluded. Sometimes he really hated when Dean's hunches were right.

Shutting the chart, the doctor looked up at his patient's younger brother, could see that the information about his brother having been attacked wasn't sitting well with him. "You can take a seat out in the waiting room and I'll have you brought in when he wakes up," he offered, wanted to avoid having to listen to the rantings and bravado that usually came after someone learned a loved one was intentionally hurt. His bleed heart? It had dried up about five years ago, making him more likely to break out in hives at a show of emotion from his patients and/or family than actually sympathize with them. They were weak at best, naïve at worst to believe bad things didn't happen to everyone, couldn't happen to them. That the worst wasn't lurking around a corner…you just didn't know _which_ corner.

The cold hearted way the doctor ordered him from the room, the certainty in the other man's eyes that he would willingly _abandon_ Dean to his ministrations…it made Alec's already reeling emotions spike into anger. Slipping his hand from Dean, afraid his anger would broadcast through his touch, he took a step toward the doctor, could almost hear the other man preparing to sigh in annoyance.

Nodding his head as if in agreement, Alec manipulated his features into a casual upside down smirk before he spoke. "See, I have a problem with that," he amiably bought to the doctor's attention but there was menace in his eyes. Stepping even closer, he lowered his voice, spoke calmly as if he were actually telling the other man something he didn't know. "To you he's just another patient, another chart to look over," he said, tapping the chart in the doctor's hands. "But he's my brother, you know?" And he smiled, as if he thought the doctor could see his point now. Had better see it fast if he didn't want him to go ballistic. "So I'm not leaving his side," he nearly whispered but there was no concealing the steel in his statement, the implacable resolve.

Having learned a long time ago what battles were worth waging, the doctor conceded, "Yeah. Fine." Then he walked out of the room, left the two brothers alone. Heading toward a patient that was waiting to be stitched up, he grumbled under his breath, "If this Dean guy's anything like his brother…its no wonder he got beat up."

At the doctor's welcome departure, Alec rolled a stool over to the bed and sat down. Inspecting his brother's face, he tried not to feel discouraged when he didn't detect any change. "Well your doc's got the personality of a watermelon. And that's an insult to watermelons," and he gave a fabricated laugh at his own joke. Wished that Dean had smirked at his barb, had at least groaned, did anything besides lie there, shutting him out.

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The hospital's sterility, it reminded Alec of Manticore, made something in the back of his mind scream to hit the door running, Dean tossed over his shoulder. The stainless steel cart that sat beside Dean's bed? He could envision the gleaming instruments Manticore had used to patch him up, sans painkillers or anesthesia, laying on it. Purposefully he stood up, pushed the cart across the room, away from his brother and then reclaimed his chair, his vigil at his brother's side.

"I called Sam, left him a message," he announced, his voice sounding loud and raw in the small room of the ER. Sliding closer to Dean, he reached out, brushed his thumb over Dean's temple. "I'm new to this whole 'emergency contact' stuff. I…I don't even know what you're allergic to or what other injuries you've had or…" he broke off, bowed his hand and rested his hand on Dean's forearm. Holding the medical history paper in his hands, he had quickly learned that the answers he knew …they couldn't be supplied. Instead they darkly ran through his head while the pencil in his hand trembled.

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**Question #1: Relationship to Patient?** 'Brother' he wrote down quickly, confidently, warmth settling over him at just having the opening to publically declare that. Was falsely swayed into thinking he was capable of filling out the form before the next question came at him like a punch to the gut.

**Question #2: Last Operational Procedure the patient had performed? **Well see I had to put over a hundred stitches all over his body to suture together his hell hound ravaged flesh. Just your every day 'operational procedure.' Piece of cake.

**Question #2a: Hospital location?** Ah, yeah, that would be some crummy motel outside New Harmony, Indiana where I used their pathetically threadbare towels to try and staunch the blood pouring out of my brother's chest.

**Question #3: List of any bones previously broken?** Ribs thanks to a genetically enhanced federal agent who thought Dean was me and was pissed when he found out he had been duped.

**Question #4: Any medication the patient might be on and is still likely to be in patient's system?** There's a good possibility he's got some of my blood still streaming through his veins, doing only God knows what. Oh and did I mention that there are nanobots in my blood? It's not been approved by the board of health or anything but they repair damaged cells…and are probably the reason I become unglued if I don't drink my milk like a good little kitty cat.

**Question #5: Any genetic health conditions? **Genetic?! Really, you're going to actually throw that word at me…here, now! We got loads of genetic things going on in our family…any of them health conditions?! Does cravings for cheeseburgers and pie count? 'Cause that's one trait Dean and I definitely share. Oh, that and the fear that we're going to screw up and lose our family. (He swallowed hard at that one and couldn't help look up at his brother, hoping Dean was ready to take back his head of the family mantle. But Dean was taking a pass on that and Alec was taking a pass on this question.)

But the other questions, they hit him worse. Not because of the answers he came up with but the lack of answers, the complete void of knowledge. Pain shafted through him as he realized just how little he knew of his brother's life before he came into it and he felt isolated from Dean. Tossing the paper and pencil onto the tray in defeat, he reached out, wrapped his hand around Dean's forearm, established a connection to his brother and didn't let go.

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Shaking off the remnants of isolation, Alec continued his one sided conversation with his brother. "I ..I told them I didn't know the answers and they..they looked at me like," he drew in a breath, exhaled and gave a laugh that spoke more of heartbreak than mirth. "They looked at me like they couldn't believe I was your brother…that I could be your brother and know so little about you." Tightening his grip around his brother's forearm and bowing his head, he stammered, "I thought I knew….I thought I was…"

Gritting his teeth, he raised his head, focused on his brother's face, slid his hand into his brother's. "I'll do better next time, Dean." But the next instant he emphatically denied, "No! I'll make sure there isn't a next time, that you won't get hurt like this again. End up …_here_." But even that lie he couldn't swallow, muttered, "Yeah, right. Me protect you from ever getting hurt again?! That rates right up there with world peace," he mocked, shaking his head at the pipe dream he almost sold to himself, wished he could believe, even for a few hours until Dean woke up, told him to man up and let his hand go.

He was startled to find a nurse had slipped into the room, cursed himself for not noticing the intruder inside Dean's perimeter before then. Coming to Dean's other side, she gave Alec a gentle smile as she checked her patient's pulse and wrote something on the chart.

It never occurred to Alec to release his hold on his brother's hand under the woman's observation. Didn't recognize that his posture spoke of fear and vulnerability, that no one would ever guess that he was some genetically engineered soldier bred to complete cold hearted assassinations.

When Alec spoke, his voice was a croak of trepidation, of need, "How is he? Any changes?"

Leveling a compassionate gaze at the unconscious man's brother, the nurse replied, "His blood pressure's good and there's no sign of fever. And we should have the other test results back soon."

Alec nodded numbly, the frank answers doing nothing to quiet the fear howling in him for the past hour. Swiveling his sight back to Dean's impassive face, he didn't acknowledge the nurse's departure. "For your information, she's hot, that nurse that was just in here," he lowly informed Dean. "Totally your type. Course, don't tell Max I've been looking at other women. Because though she says she's not the jealous type, I saw the way she used to look at Logan's 'friend' Asha. If looks could kill…." He smirked, forced himself to, to roll out the light tone, to be the carefree Alec that was so much more easily received than the true, scared, don't-trust-myself-to-not-hurt-the-people-I-love, Alec. But he shook his head a moment later, knew tha, if Dean was awake he would be giving him that glare, that 'you really think you're fooling me' look.

"Fine, you got me scared, alright," Alec huffed out a moment later. "Satisfied?!" running a hand over his mouth in nervousness. "Sam's following up some leads in some part of the county that doesn't get cell reception, Bobby's not at home and all you got is me and I…I don't know how to sit here and pretend I'm not freaked out, that I'm _normal_. I've been itching to check your pulse, to inspect the stitches on your head, to scour their medical cabinet for something to help you, or ..just get you out of here and do whatever I have to do to get you to open your eyes. I thought being responsible to save your life was the hardest thing but this waiting, this putting your life in someone else's hands_, _a_**stranger**_**'s **hands…It royally sucks, Dean. It does."

At Dean's unresponsiveness to his rant, he sighed, had hoped that his panicked tone would have reached his brother where he was, brought him back to him, smirking at his little brother's girlie emoting. Leaning forward, he trapped Dean's hand between his own hands and exhaled. "Joshua called the other day, said two of those kids that you taught how to play poker slipped out of TC the other night and came back with a wad of cash that smelled like booze and peanuts. They used the money to order take out, if you believe it. Hundred pizzas and some thirty orders of buffalo wings. Delivery guy…he drove right past the military jeep and pulled up to the TC gate, honked his horn and began stacking the pizza boxes right there. Josh said kid even smiled at the tip Max gave him. That's gotta be proof positive that things are changing for them….for us," he amended, knew that he should count himself in TC's numbers, though each day he spent with his brothers the more he felt part of them instead of part of the transgenic race. "And that's because of you, Dean. You didn't treat those kids like freaks…you treated them like equals. Made them see that Ordinaries could be their friends too, their mentors. Course now Joshua says they want to learn Texas Hold'em poker and hit Vegas," he lightly laughed, could just see Joshua trying to persuade some young upstart transgenics to not do anything rash…just like his friend had done for him time after time.

But his smile faded away under Dean's silence and he squeezed his brother's hand harder in his grip. "I'm not going anywhere Dean. I'll be here when you wake up. But come on man," he whined, a light laugh in his tone, "I'm going stir crazy here. I'm a man of action, you know. Take down the bad guys, rescue the girls. This waiting, I suck at it, Dean. So give me a break, huh? I'm trying my best here but if you're not coming around in another hour…I won't be responsible for my actions. Deal?" At Dean's continued nonverbal response, Alec concluded, "I'll take that as a yes."

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TBC

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As always, I'm so honored that you've decided to read my story!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	6. Chapter 6: Emergency Contact pt 3

It Runs In the Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

Author's Note: Hope there's not too many mistakes this go around. I'm rushing to post this on my lunch break.

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Chapter 6: Emergency Contact – Against Medical and Brotherly Advice

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The doctor was running down all of Dean's test results like he was recalling the formula for a chemical compound, eyes flickering from chart to Alec and back again, repeatedly until Alec had to clench his hand into a fist to prevent himself from grabbing the chart out of the good doc's hands and reading it for himself. Was stopped from taking that course of action when the doctor deviated his routine by looking to Dean, his expression surprised.

"Hey, look who's waking up?" the doctor drawled, could pull on the Dr. Bedside Manners when the occasion called for it, when something good actually occurred.

Head snapping toward his brother, Alec felt air whoosh back into his lungs for the first time in nearly two hours. Dean's eyes were beginning to flutter. Forestalling the doc's examination, he rested a hand on Dean's chest and leaned close, beckoned, "Dean?" eyes locked on his brother's features.

Unprepared for such forwardness from his patient's brother, the doctor tried to reclaim his control over the situation. "Mr. Colt, I think it's time for you to move to the waiting room, let us help your brother ease back into consciousness," he stated, using his no nonsense doctor tone as he withdrew his light pen, was reaching out to touch his patient's face. But his wrist was caught in Mr. Colt's brutal grip before he made contact. He couldn't help squeak out a grunt of pain at the unrelenting pressure.

Not sparing a glance at the doctor, Alec remained focused on Dean, on Dean's eyes that finally, successfully opened to reveal the green beneath that Alec's own eyes mirrored. "Hey, sleepyhead. 'Bout time you woke up," he said, surprising himself at how soft his voice had come out, at being able to feel violently protective and immensely happy at the same time.

"Where?" Dean stammered, blinking again, eyes fixed on Alec before he shifted his head in an attempt to take in the rest of his surroundings. He moaned in pain at the movement, raised his hand to press it against his aching temple.

"Easy, easy. You're in the hospital, been unconscious for almost three hours," Alec provided. Releasing the doctor's wrist, he wrapped his hand around Dean's wrist with acute gentleness that was in sharp contrast to the nearly bone breaking grip he had unleashed on the doctor. Tugging at Dean's raised arm, Alec was relieved when Dean didn't fight his manipulations; instead let his hand drop trustfully into his own. He couldn't help smile as Dean's eyes met his own. "I was about to start flipping out if you didn't wake up soon."

"You, flip out?!" Dean scoffed, but had to close his eyes when the gesture increased the pounding in his head. Instantly Alec's hand squeezed his, giving him an outlet for the pain.

"You've talked to him, seen that he's awake. Now you need to leave. Let me examine him. Right now," the doctor snapped, told himself that he couldn't back down to this twenty-something year old kid again. No matter how he tried to intimidate him.

Alec forced himself to look away from Dean, to look up to the doctor who thought he could actually _make _him leave his brother's side. "I'm. Not. Leaving. Got that?" the veneer of placating the doctor's unreasonable requests gone.

The doctor shifted his stance. "I've been accepting of your need to be with your brother but if you don't leave this time, I will call security. I think we both agree that seeing you brawling with the security team won't help the terrible headache your brother must have." He knew that he had finally used the right leverage when the younger man flinched at his words, at the direct hit to where he was most vulnerable: his brother, his brother's wellbeing.

Cursing, Alec looked back to Dean, "Alright, I'll just be out in the waiting room," regret coloring his words as he slipped his hand out of Dean's.

Without even opening his eyes, Dean shot his hand out, latched onto his brother's arm, halted Alec's departure.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Alec worried asked, leaning over his brother again, watched in surprise as Dean rolled his head, not toward him but toward the doctor.

Opening his eyes, Dean tried to not squint against the light, strove to give the doctor his best determined look. "My brother's not leaving…you are," he bluntly announced, the rough texture of his voice not diminishing the resolve of his words. "I'm checking out."

"Mr. Ford that is highly ill-advised!" The doctor shot back, his calm façade falling away under such an irrational request.

Dean managed a cocky, if weak, smirk. "Funny, I don't remember asking for your advice in the first place."

"You are under my care…." The doctor fumed, coming to realize how this would reflect on his records, that his boss would criticize his diagnosis, his handling of the situation until it was turned into a black mark on his reputation.

The word 'care' made Dean snort internally. He was under his own care, had been since he was about seven. Was about to tell the doctor that when Alec startled him by releasing his hand. Watching his brother stalk around his bed to the doctor, he felt a jolt of frustration, of fear and of betrayal at the notion that Alec was actually going to side with the doctor instead of with him.

Alec slid protectively between Dean and the doctor, his action telling the doctor that he had one chance in a hundred _billion _of touching his brother without his explicit permission. He parried the doctor's furrowed expression with a deadly glare. "He's under _my care_ and he's leaving. You want us to fill out some paperwork before we leave or should we just send you a postcard?" the biting question not coming as lightly mocking as he intended, his walls and deflections worn down after hours of waiting for Dean to wake up, worrying.

Cowered under the younger man's blazing eye contact and lethal tone, the doctor took a step back, stammered, "There is a form…" but the younger man turned his back on him before he could complete his sentence, dismissing him like an errand boy. Leaving his patient behind, he felt relief shudder through him. His mother told him to stick to small country hospitals …he should have listened to her.

Warmed at Alec's words, that his little brother had assigned himself his caretaker, Dean settled back in the bed, felt some of the fight/flight adrenaline seep away as the doctor left him alone with his brother. Wasn't prepared for Alec to turn from the doctor and suddenly lean over him, one of his hands pressed into the bed on either side of him, trapping him.

Alec words were unleashed with a low hiss and in a tone nearly menacing. "Crap, Dean! Did you miss the part where I said you were unconscious for three hours!? You _should _be staying here and letting them make sure you're OK."

"Alec, chill. Do you know how many times I've been knocked unconscious?!" Dean scoffed but found his brother's eyes spark in pain at his words instead of a measure of relief.

"No," Alec choked out. "No, I don't and that's the whole _point,_" his failure on the forms coming back to the forefront of his mind, the thousand things he didn't know about his brothers, that he should know, had to know if he was truly going to take care of them.

"What point?" Dean quietly asked, could see that Alec was upset though by what he couldn't guess. He had been hurt far worse and Alec knew it. Had been there, playing surgeon.

Alec drew back from Dean, straightened up, met Dean's confused look and then he paced a step away, needed some distance, didn't want his brother caught in his emotional implosion. "I don't know how many _times _you've been unconscious or if you're allergic to anything or if your heart's really _really_ healed after your electrocution or if what I did, how I patched you up…" he took a breath, knew he was rambling, was freaking out but the next declaration had to be said, the worry had to be admitted, "I don't know if my blood damaged you in some way, makes you react differently to certain drugs…or…"  
"Whoa, whoa, calm down," Dean gently cut in, raising his hand to halt Alec's flow of words, beginning to shift up in the bed to better combat his brother's emotional fallout. But Alec quickly moved to him, claimed a seat on the side of his bed and halted his motions with a gentle but firm hand on his chest. Looking up to Alec's worried features, Dean remembered what it felt like seeing Sam unconscious, not moving, the way Alec had hunched over the laptop, desperate for some way to wake his brother up. Knew that this had been another painful round of that type of waiting for Alec, wished he hadn't put his brother through that again, especially so soon. "What's brought on this game of trivial pursuit of my health? One small concussion?! Come on, you know I've had worse. So _much_ worse and you and Sam saw me through it. This? This was nothing," he downplayed with a cocky smirk, unaware that pain shone even brighter in his eye, undermining his efforts.

"No," Alec growled out, not missing the contradictory signals from his brother's body. "This wasn't _nothing_, Dean."

Seeing that Alec wasn't going to back down, was shaken up over his whole, 'taking a nap for three hours' deal, Dean softened his approach. "Ok, it wasn't nothing but I'm fine. Awake. Ready to get out of here."

"You should…"Alec began in protest but Dean cut him off.

"Sitting back cozy in a hospital, wracking up bills, confident that the insurance company will pay them and the cops won't show up…that's not my life, Alec. It not _our_ lives," he clarified, needed Alec to see what he had gotten himself into, the reality of their lives, the consequences of basically living on the run. "The insurance fraud has got to be on the verge of being discovered, I think I used this ID last time I got questioned by the cops and my credit card's tapped out. We need to leave. Now, Alec."

Alec hung his head, wanted to protest Dean's words but knew he couldn't. "Alright, just give me a few minutes," he ordered stalking for the door.

"What? Wait? Why?" Dean called after his brother.

Swinging around, Alec pointed at Dean. "Stay there, Dean. I'll be back."

"Alec?" Dean protested being abandoned without knowing why.

"Just…trust me, alright. Please just stay there, don't move," Alec beseeched, saw the startled look in Dean's eyes but his brother nodded his head a moment later. Warmed at his brother's capitulation to his wishes, Alec swept out of the exam room door and headed for the medication lockup. Just because they weren't sticking around that didn't mean the hospital couldn't provide some post treatment drugs for the pain he could easily read in his brother's eyes. It seemed a thousand years since he had sold hormones, had thought drugs were just a quick and profitable money maker. Now, knowing how they could heal, could ease the hurt of his brothers, they were rare, invaluable commodities that he would never barter away for something so trivial as money.

Alec's '_trust me'_ echoed in Dean's head. And it came back to him, that Sam had said that when they were leaving Boward county and the Mystery Spot behind. Hadn't let him even pack the car without him standing a foot away from him, had kept up that closeness for nearly a month. In that time, he had learned that if he moved to his left too quickly, there was a good chance he would ran smack into the wall that was Sammy. Had found it oddly touching…and gradually annoying. Was torn between disappointed and relieved when Sam had deemed it OK for him to go out on his own, to not have a constant shadow. Knew he should have felt more relief, especially since he had been trying so hard at that time to convince himself that Sam didn't need him, would do fine after the hounds dragged him to hell.

Feeling a thousand times grateful to both his brothers that he didn't need to worry about what his brother, correction: _brothers _would do without him, Dean closed his eyes. Though the pain wasn't on the Richter scale of what he had endured recently, it still was a spike on the scale. Pain was pain. Was a sure thing…but he had come to see that so was trust.

He trusted Sam. He trusted Alec. With his life…and his heart. Knew that when he was vulnerable, his brothers took up his slack, stood guard over him…even went so far as to take on Tricksters and threaten doctors out of his room.

Maybe he didn't have valid health insurance and his real name wasn't on any of his identification cards and he didn't have a dime to his name but none of that stacked up to the gift of having his two brothers. He was smiling when Alec reentered his room. It earned him Alec's probing demand of "What?"

"The way that doctor lit out of here…there's no way he's coming back," Dean predicted, a proud gleam in his eyes. "Screw the paperwork."  
Touched that Dean had done as he asked, as he had pleaded and hadn't moved a muscle while he was gone, still wasn't moving without his permission, Alec smiled. "And you're such a stickler for paperwork," he sarcastically drawled, sitting his brother's clothing on the end of the bed. Preempting the action Dean was about to perform, he threw the covers off his brother. Wrapping a strong hand around his brother's bicep, he helped Dean slowly sit up and swing his legs off the bed, knew Dean was in pain when he bowed his head. Certain that Dean had his balance, was in no fear of toppling off the bed, he released his hold on his brother but not his worried inspection. Pouring some water in a cup, he stepped in front of Dean, presented the water and his newly acquired pain killers to his brother.

"You do a little shopping, Alec?" Dean teased but he didn't raise his head to look at Alec, knew that keeping his head at low altitudes was the best way to keep prevent himself from blacking out. Obediently, he downed the offered pills with water, let Alec reclaim the cup from his grip.

"What can I say, their stock was awesome," Alec quipped back, picking up Dean's jeans. He scowled when Dean ripped them from his grasp, clearly vetoing that type of help.

"You get some Tryptophan?" Dean asked, eyes still down but there was a challenge in his tone. Sliding off the bed, he was grateful that Alec grabbed his left arm. He didn't begrudge his brother's grossly unfair genetic strength right then, not when it was keeping him off the hospital's linoleum floor.

With Dean determined to shuck into his jeans on his own, Alec quickly predicted that his one handed grip wasn't going to be sufficient to allow Dean to do his one legged balancing act. Moving to his brother's side, he wrapped his arm around Dean's waist.

Certain that Dean wasn't going to drop the Tryptophan issue and needing a distraction before he overrode his brother's weak, painful dressing operation, Alec countered Dean's question. "It's not a vitamin store, Dean."

"So that's a no," Dean surmised, a reprimand in his tone, even as he contemplated step 2 on the dressing to-do list. Looking for his shoes on the floor, he pointed when he found them lurking in a corner.

"Take a load off," Alec offhandedly ordered, but enforced it by nonchalantly picking Dean up and sitting him back onto the bed before he crossed over to snag the shoes. He smiled at Dean's grumbled '_show off control freak_' behind his back. Wiping the smile away, he returned to Dean, crouched down by his brother's dangling feet and began sliding Dean's shoes on while pointedly ignoring his sibling's warning growl of "Alec." As if dealing with a petulant child, Alec simply gave the shoestrings an extra hard yank when he tied them.

Task complete, Alec stood up, noticed that Dean had managed to get the hospital gown off but was stalled, shirt in hand, head bent down in obvious pain. He grimly did a visual inspection of the bruises discoloring his brother's side. Reassured himself what the doctor had said, bruised but nothing broken. Found that not very comforting in light of the obvious pain his brother was in. Gently pulling the t-shirt out of Dean's hands, he tossed it onto the bed and instead maneuvered the button down shirt onto his brother's frame, careful to not require his brother's bruised left side to shift much. He was allowed to button two buttons before Dean knocked his hand away.

"Dude, back off," Dean groused quietly. But he made no motion to finish up the buttons himself. Sat there, head down, brother standing so close he could hear Alec's breathing.

Knowing that was as good as the clothing situation was going to get and thankful that the temperature outside was still in the seventies, Alec shifted to Dean's side and pulled his stubborn brother's arm over his shoulders. Easing his brother from the bed, he felt Dean lean into him, didn't retreat from the arm he wrapped around his waist. Pulling Dean close, careful to not press his brother's bruised side too tightly against him, he propelled them toward the door. Fought the urge to just carry Dean out to the waiting taxi, knew that would be a serious breach of the trust Dean had in him, would be an attack on the pride that Dean clung to, even around Sam.

As they left the safe, isolated confines of the exam room, the bustle of the ER assaulted them. The sounds and sights? Alec hadn't noticed them before, not with his desperate need to find Dean driving him. Across the hallway, stepping out of a curtained off exam area, the doctor emerged, seemed shocked to see his patient on his feet, albeit leaning heavily against his brother. But at the threat in the younger brother's eyes, he looked away, skittered off to tend to patients that actually _wanted_ his help.

Dean, dreading that, contrary to what he had predicted, the doctor would renew his attempts to treat him, he was shocked and relieved when the doctor froze at the sight of them and then hightailed it into another section of the ER. Braving the pain of the action, he raised his head to look at Alec. He couldn't hold in the low chuckle when he saw the frightening expression Alec had offered up to the good doctor. "You've got to teach me that look," he insisted, his voice low, hinting at pain but also at mirth.

"No way," Alec instantly denied, swiveling his look to his brother. He exchanged his threatening look in for an affectionate, teasing one. He smiled knowingly. "You'll use it on Sam and me."

"Absolutely," Dean readily agreed and then his eyes widened as he spied a nurse across the room that had the looks to be a runway model. "Ah, man she's hot…" he appreciatively undertoned, suddenly felt a flash of regret at deciding to bail on the hospital scene so hastily.

Following Dean's gaze, Alec smirked. He might not know Dean's medical history but he sure knew other things about his brother. "I told you that you should wake up. That your nurse was hot."

"Her?!" Dean said, raising his finger to point in the stunning woman's direction. "She was my nurse?! And I slept through it?!"

"Now you know why I thought you must be dying," Alec teased as he heartlessly maneuvered his brother by the beautiful nurse and out the ER doors to the cab that he had called for when he made his pharmaceutical run. Opening the back door of the cab, he eased Dean into the seat, slammed the door and quickly skirted around the cab and sank into the other back seat. Tersely he gave the cabby their motel address.

Head pounding hard enough to make his stomach churn, Dean leaned back against the cab's questionably clean seat cushion and closed his eyes, knew that Alec was there, had everything under control. Was thinking he might get away with not hurling this concussion when the cab's speakers came alive with pulsating hip hop music.

The groan that escaped Dean when the first string of musical notes erupted in the car was enough to put Alec into motion. Leaning forward over the front seat, he politely asked, "Would you please turn your music off? My brother's not feeling so great."

Throwing a look over his shoulder at Alec, the cabby snapped his gum and retorted, "My cab, my music, my rules. You don't like it, you can walk. You and your brother."

Alec's hand was a blur of motion. Clamping down on the cabby's shoulder, he ignored the wild swing the car made to the shoulder of the road, said in his falsely amicably voice, "How about I break your collarbone, toss you out of your cab and I do the driving myself."

"Agh," the man cried out in pain before he hurriedly agreed, "Alright! Alright. Music's off. Music's going off!" Found that the manacle grip on his shoulder was released a second before he sent the car into a pole. Righting the car's direction back onto the road, his next step was to turn off the music. He spent the rest of the ride rubbing his aching shoulder.

In the enforced silence, the cabby heard the gentle inquiry from behind him, couldn't believe Mr. I'm-going-to-snap-your-collarbone had such tenderness in him. "You alright? That better?" He heard the man's brother mumble back, "Yeah," like it was an effort just to form words. Then his passengers fell silent. And honestly, he wasn't going to press the issue if they wanted to stiff him the fare, was surprised when some bills were carelessly dropped over his seat as the two men..two brothers climbed out of the same side of his cab.

Hands hovering inches from his brother, prepared to intervene if Dean faltered, Alec exited the cab. Not wasting a second, he pulled Dean against him before he could stumble. Then he set them off in the direction of their motel room door. Though he was glad they were getting "home", he was deflated that the Impala wasn't there, meaning Sam wasn't there. Was struck again with just how deeply he depended on his brothers to take charge in an emergency, to not just back him up but to protect him…not from dangers…but something far more sinister: fear.

"Few more steps,"Alec softly encouraged when Dean stumbled, mere yards away from the room door. Cinching his brother more tightly to him, he heard the intake of pained breath when Dean's bruised side was jostled. He clenched his teeth, trying to shut out Dean's pain and his fear. Remembered what Lydecker had tried to drill into him. "_Fear is your opponent's most effective weapon against you. You show fear, you react in fear and the worst will happen: You'll be dea_d."

But Lydecker had gotten that one wrong, just like a thousand of Manticore's other teachings. The worst wouldn't be him dying. It would be something happening to his brothers. And fear, his fear, that wasn't going to cost him that. He would get better at this, at taking care of his brothers: more rational, less emotional. Would relearn how to fall back behind the cold hearted fortifications that Manticore had developed in him. Because, when his brothers were depending on him the most, he couldn't afford to let his fear be a liability.

SNDASNDASNDA

Attention more on his sleeping brother than the muted television show breaking down the week's top ten music videos, Alec startled when his cellphone rang, its ringtone loud in the silent room. Hurriedly crossing the room and entering the bathroom, he shut the door before he answered his phone, heard his brother's worried voice reach him.

"How badly is he hurt? Which hospital is he in?" Sam breathlessly demanded, one hand clutching the phone while the other had a white knuckled grip on the Impala's steering wheel. The panic that had washed over him after he heard Alec's voice message eased a little at just the sound of Alec's voice, of being able to talk to one of his brothers.

Alec quickly reassured Sam. "He has a concussion and some bruising but he woke up."

"So he's OK?" Sam prodded, needed just a little more proof from Alec before his heart rate would agree to return to normal.

"He's going to be," Alec stated, was even starting to believe his own words. "I gave him some pain pills and he's sleeping now."

Sam exhaled in audible relief. But a second later his brow creased as Alec's words replayed in his head. "Wait. You gave him pain pills? So he's not…"

"In the hospital anymore? No, " Alec finished Sam's question and answered it.

"Leaving the hospital, that with a doctor's blessing?" Sam challenged, already certain he knew the answer before Alec snorted.

"What do you think?" Alec scoffed, knew he was selling Dean out. Knew just as well that, when Sam's concern about their older brother was in full force, he wasn't going to get caught taking Dean's side. Dean was on his own in that fight.

Hearing Sam muttering words like 'stubborn jerk', 'hard headed' and 'idiot', Alec barely realized when his brother's words were again for his ears. "Look I'll be there in half an hour. Do we need anything at a pharmacy? Need food?" Because that was SOP for a Winchester under any given circumstance: pharmacy and food runs. Alec put in an order for both before he reluctantly disconnected the call with Sam.

Then, coming out of the bathroom, Alec stood at the end of Dean's bed. "Sam's on his way, Dean," he quietly assured, not intending to wake the other man just wanting Dean to know that brotherly re-enforcements were arriving. And, in Alec's opinion, they were way past due.

SNDASNDASNDA

TBC

SNDASNDASNDA

Thanks for your wonderful support!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	7. Chapter 7: Emergency Contact pt 4

Runs in the Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

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Chapter 7: Emergency Contact – By the Numbers

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The knock on the door was light but urgent, gave the impression that the door would be kicked in, regardless of the noise, if it wasn't opened in three seconds flat. Alec did it in under two. The air whooshed out of him when Sam shoved a brown paper bag and a white pharmacy bag into his gut as he flew by him, Sam's shoulder clipping his in his brother's haste.

Fretful eyes having found Dean's prone figure even as the door swung open, Sam numbly foisted his handful onto Alec as he quickly crossed the room to his brother's side. Coming to a standstill beside Dean's bed, he itched to reach out, to check Dean for fever, to do something to get Dean to wake up and look at him, give him that squinty eyed look before he groused about him lurking over him. It should have been enough for him: to be standing there beside his brother, Dean there, breathing normally, pale but no visible blood or bruises. But Sam had learned, years ago, that Dean hid his worst hurts away, even from him. Especially from him. Having not detected his little brother's approach, he jolted when Alec's soft voice spoke by his ear.

"It's time to wake him up for a bit. You want to do the honors?" Alec quietly asked, ready and willing to relinquish his head of the family mantle, to turn their big brother's care over to more capable hands. Because this type of injury? It wasn't about medical knowledge, about how efficient he was at suturing, staunching blood loss or CPR. No, this was about gentle touches and soft reassuring tones, familiarity and safety. It was crucial that, in that first second after he woke Dean hourly, there was someone there to erase Dean's look of panic, to judge whether his concussion had caused any loss of memory.

'_Meant you had to __know__ his memories to see whether he had lost some of them,_' Alec bitterly chastised his ineptitude. But he couldn't fight the spike of jealousy that went through him when Sam readily nodded his head without turning to him and did what he had wanted him to do: be that rock for Dean. Watched as Sam sank down on the bed at Dean's side, did it gently not to jar Dean but without trepidation. Sam was used to this…good at it: Taking care of Dean. Knowing what Dean needed. Being the one Dean counted on seeing when he was jolted awake: in pain, confused, striving to put the pieces of what had happened together in those first few hazy moments.

Alec was about to turn away, let his brothers have some privacy when Sam caught his wrist. For the first time since his brother's entrance into the room, his eyes met Sam's. His brother's concern was a live wire but so was his love, his contentment at being back with his family. All of his family.

"Hey, not so fast. You're not going anywhere," Sam insisted, a touch of amusement coming to life in his eyes.

"I thought I would give you two some space…" Alec explained, didn't want Sam thinking he was abandoning them, instead of only being courteous.

"Nah, uh. You're not bailing on me. We have to present a united front or he'll push us around. I mean, he already strong armed you into letting him leave the hospital," Sam guessed without judgment or accusation, the small smirk turning up his lips making the statement a teasing goad.

Pleasure washed over Alec. Sam wasn't pushing him away, was instead cinching him to his side, wasn't angry that he had faltered under Dean's desire to be out of the hospital but was almost sympathetic. After all, who knew just what a force to be reckoned with their brother was more than Sam? "The way he ticked off his doctor, trust me, it was safer to leave," Alec exaggeratedly countered, knew by the way Sam's eyes sparked that his brother didn't quite believe him.

Assured that Alec wasn't going to retreat, Sam released his little brother's wrist and returned his focus to Dean. His brother was immobile in sleep, oblivious to the conversations going on around him. Secretly happy that he could justify his next actions, that he had proof that more than words had to be employed to rouse Dean, Sam coiled his fingers lightly around Dean's hand and gave the appendage a gentle squeeze as he beckoned, "Hey kiddo. Time to wake up." And though Dean's response wasn't long in coming…it felt like forever to Sam.

Pulled from sleep by a soothing, familiar, loved voice, Dean blinked in the light, his fuzzy vision sharpening after a few moments, allowing him to see Sam clearly. "Sam, you're back," he greeted, voice thick with sleep and worry, making him sound so young, like he had when he and Sam were kids, when his little brother would wake him up, begging for him to play with him.

Dean's defenseless tone coupled with the physical frailty he was radiating had Sam swallowing down his emotions, chastising himself. '_Who gets choked up just talking to his brother?! Maybe I better stop drinking lattes and drink straight java like Dean says I should, like real men drink.' _Aloud, after his throat loosened its tightness, he said, adopting the quiet, soothing timbre he always did whenever Dean was hurt, "Yeah. I just got here. How are you doing?" he asked, already inspecting his brother's eyes and coloring, liking neither result.

"Just swell," Dean sardonically replied, tone pitched low, afraid that the sound of his own voice wouldn't go over well with his head. But when he rolled onto his back, he instantly regretted the action. Raising his hand, he covered his eyes, willed himself to not let out a tortured groan.

Hating to see Dean in pain, Alec stiffened at Sam's side but didn't enter the conversation or offer assistance to Dean. But it was hard, remaining in the background. He had wanted Sam there, to take over…but relinquishing control _over_ to Sam? That was proving almost as tough for him to do as it had been with the medical staff. Dean was _his_ brother..even if he was also Sam's. He had heard somewhere that family should help each other in times of need…he didn't remember hearing that they argued among themselves who got to _do _the helping. '_Great. Add another Winchester anomaly to the stack: possessiveness.'_

Tightening his grip on his older brother's hand, Sam waited with Dean for the pain to abate, knew there was little else he could do. Had been through this process too darn many times before, knew the helplessness of sitting there while Dean suffered. But not alone.

Fervently Sam vowed that Dean would not face his pain alone, not with him there, not with Alec there. That Dean's days of recklessly flying solo, of hiding his injuries, of getting admitted into hospitals without a family member there, they were in the past. Or soon would be.

Dean just didn't know it yet.

Breaking the silence, Dean stated, hand still covering his eyes, "My pain's not for nothing, though. I found our ghost," but he was unable to conjure up a boastful tone like he had wanted to.

And there it was: Dean's habitual mentality. That if a hunt was successful, his pain was worth it. '_Not to me_,' Sam silently protested. "I thought we agreed that if _either_ one of us struck gold we were going to call for backup _before _confronting the ghost?" he said, using his patient, reasonable tone though he felt like being anything but patient or reasonable. It didn't help knowing that Dean _always_ had a different standard when it came to putting himself in danger in comparison to what he thought was acceptable for his brothers to face. A double standard.

Lifting his hand from his eyes, Dean faced Sam and ripped his other hand from his brother's grasp. "Sorry Sam, but she wasn't the type of girl who liked to go slow on the first date," he caustically defended, pained eyes blazing into his brother's, rankled at Sam's third degree.

Alec knew he was in trouble when Sam stood up and straightened his back, indicating that he was entrenching himself fully into the battle zone and he recognized that Dean's umbrage was just starting. Hastily, he interrupted his brothers' fray with a quip, "A girl? A girl got the best of you?" laughing.

Eyes swinging to Alec, Dean countered heatedly, "Hey she might have been small but she was mean."

But Alec's eyebrows only rose higher in amusement, "Wait! Wait?! Let me get this straight, she was a _midget_?"

"Petite!" Dean gruffly corrected. "She was petite! Not a midge like Sam goes for," he taunted, drawling Sam into the carnage.

Sam drew out his brother's name in a long suffering protest at his "sense of humor", "Dean…"

Holding up his hands, Alec stalled Sam's confession. "You know what? I don't want to know. Some secrets you two can keep."

Not willing to leave the arena without getting a chance to defend himself, Sam grumbled under his breath, "I don't like midgets…"

A smug victorious smile formed on Dean's lips. "That's just mean spirited Sam."

"That's not what I meant!" Sam shot back, adopting his big-brother-is-picking-on-me tone.

Stepping up to the bed in front of Sam, Alec broke his brothers' glaring contest. "Whoa, whoa. You two are giving _me_ a headache," he accused, kept his tone soft in deference to Dean as his eyes swiveled between his two brothers.

Sam looked away and bit his lower lip, ashamed that he had allowed Dean to provoke him into one of their stupid bickering rounds when he knew raised voices was the last thing Dean needed right then. Knew that it was his brother's way of deflecting his worry, of telling him that he was OK, more than OK, would best him to prove it. Thing was, Dean didn't need to prove a thing to him. Never had.

Turning on his heel, Sam stalked out of the room, his action surprising both of his brothers.

Looking back to Dean in confusion and sympathy, Alec heard Dean sigh in regret and again cover his eyes with his hand. H was uncertain if the gesture was more about pain management or concealing the emotions that might play across his brother's features. "Dean…" he softly entreated, was about to tell Dean that Sam was reacting in worry, fear not true anger when the motel door opened and Sam reentered the room. He noted that Sam was holding the end of his shirt out in front of him, saw as Sam passed him on the way to the bathroom that his shirt was full of ice, that he had constructed his shirt into an ice bucket. A moment later, he heard the quiet chink of ice cubes hitting the sink. Wasn't at all surprised when Sam stalked out of the bathroom a moment later, carrying a bulky washcloth that cloaked a bundle of ice cubes.

When his bed was jostled by a settling weight, Dean instantly dropped his hand. His eyes collided with a now seated Sam for a heartbeat, wondering if the battle would continue or if a truce had been called. The gentle tone of his brother's voice told him everything he needed to know and more.

"So, where did you make contact?" Sam asked, voice all concern now, his eyes pleading with Dean to not push him away.

"Back of the head," Dean readily confessed, offering up a tired, depreciative smirk.

"Right side," Alec added, earning him both of his brother's eye contact, one offering gratitude while the other promised retribution.

"We'll deal with your hard head first. Roll over," Sam ordered, giving Dean's leg a pat to prod him into motion.

Surprisingly without protest, Dean did as his brother instructed, though his motions were slow and a wince flickered across his face. He didn't startle when fingers parted his hair with tender practice, instinctively found the source of his pain in record time. But he hissed quietly into the pillow when the cold compress made contact.

Having done a quick inspection of the stitches before apply the ice to the knot on his brother's head, Sam was grateful that the doctor had at least been competent. While Dean was being compliant, he lifted his brother's shirt up, saw the colorful molding tracking around his side. "Ribs intact?" he asked but looked to Alec, waiting for his answer.

"Yeah," Alec replied, envious how easily Sam made it look, taking care of someone you cared about. '_A little more practice, more time with my brothers and I'll have it down_. _Course NOT getting practice at patching them up would be __awesome__.'_

"I think I have some Bengay in my travel kit," Sam announced, nodding toward the bathroom, sending Alec on his mission.

"Not Bengay…it stinks," Dean mumbled, sleep nearly overtaking him.

"In two seconds you'll be asleep. It's the rest of us that'll have to put up with the smell…"

"Won't," Dean nearly slurred, eyelids fluttering.

Putting his free hand on Dean's neck, he began massaging the area, knowing from past experience, his and Dean's, that a blow to the head meant trauma to the neck.

Dean moaned in bliss and his eyes closed against his will. "Not fair," he vainly protested his brother's underhanded tactics, of using his masseur act to lull him into sleep.

"All's fair in love and war. Now keep those peepers closed," Sam murmured quietly, knowing Dean was on the verge of being out.

"I sleep with my peepers open," Dean mumbled back, easily recognizing Sam's reference to their shtriga hunt's encounter with the old woman in the hospital.

Dean was asleep before Sam's laugh reached him.

SNDASNDASNDA

Leaning in the bathroom doorway, Alec watched his brothers, fought tears, not out of sadness but unbelievable gratitude. These two compassionate, brave, loyal men, they were _his_ brothers. His.

He stood there a moment more, waited until the last of Dean's resistance against sleep crumbled under Sam's comforting presence and touch before he stepped forward, handed Sam the Bengay. Hands sliding inside the pocket of his sweatshirt, he watched as Sam, with a featherlight touch, applied the ointment to the bruised flesh of their brother. Saw that Sam did the task gently but methodically, like he had probably done a thousand times in the past. A past he didn't know, wanted to know, had to know to be a better brother, to both of them.

"That's another thing you have to teach me," Alec quietly prodded, knowing as the words left his mouth that he wasn't speaking in order, was picking up from where his thoughts in his head had taken him. Sam's confused look confirmed it. Pulling on a smile, he wiggled his fingers, "Your magic touch," deciding to start with the inconsequential lesson, to lead up to the important ones in a few moments.

Sam smirked and drawled out, "Riiiggghhhtt. Teach you the few points of leverage I have on Dean?! Don't think so, dude."

Sam's denial made Alec laugh. That was the same reason he wasn't going to teach Dean the glare he had perfected. Apparently they each had developed their own artillery against each other and weren't giving up their trade secrets. Crossing over to the table where he had carelessly deposited the food Sam had brought, he pulled out a hamburger, claimed a chair at the table and removed the pain pill bottle from the pharmacy bag. Reading the name on the prescription, he ran his finger over it: _Dean Ford_. He didn't know too much about this Dean Ford only that he had health insurance, had apparently been questioned by the cops recently and '_He has a brother Alec Colt_,' Alec tacked on, smiling, consoled by that if not mollified.

After Sam entered the bathroom and he could hear the tap running, Alec tilted his chair to the right and picked up Dean's wallet off the other bed. Opening it, he searched it until he found what the ER staff had: Dean's emergency contact list.

There were three names on the list:

Sam Hooker

Alec Colt

Robert Ludlow

Though it was there in black and white, in Dean's handwriting, Alec couldn't quite believe it. He was number two?! Somehow he had beaten out Bobby or should he say Robert Ludlow for the number 2 spot. '_Sorry about your luck, Bobby_,' he smugly thought, wondered if it was normal, gloating that a hospital would call him before they would call someone else to notify them that someone he loved was hurt. He kind of believed it was far from normal.

Stilling as Sam came out of the bathroom and headed toward him, he was uncertain if he had somehow crossed over a line of privacy going through Dean's wallet. But when Sam leaned over his shoulder to look at what he held, he didn't sense outrage but intense curiosity emanating from his sibling.

"Why didn't the hospital call me?" Sam huffed, his frustration evident now that he was looking at proof that his name was unmistakably first in the pecking order.

Alec couldn't hold back his smile. '_Guess being territorial over the order you appeared on an emergency contact list was normal after all..for a Winchester.' _Aloud he blandly offered, "Maybe it's your last name…kinda seems…_unsavory_," he added a touch of haughty censure on the last word, turning his head to watch Sam's jaw clench.

Ripping the contact card from Alec's hand, Sam sank heavily into the chair to Alec's left, a position that gave him a clear view of Dean's slumbering form and his smart mouthed younger brother. Giving Alec a stern glare he explained, "Hooker as in Johnny Hooker." At Alec's shrug of 'who?', Sam sighed. "Johnny Hooker of the Sting?" Still nothing registered in Alec's eyes. "A character played by Robert Redford?"

"Ah…I got nothing," Alec returned, getting pleasure out of his brother's frustration.

Sam waved a hand of annoyance at him, a gesture exactly like Dean had offered to him over his alias.

"I wanted Templar as in Simon Templar from the Saint but Dean wouldn't let me. The Knight Templar?" Sam tried, hoping to defend himself but knew by Alec's blank expression that the alias was having no better luck connecting with Alec than his present one. He looked down at the card, thought he might as well complete the conversation. "Bobby's is from a movie too: Legend of the Fall."

"Oh, yeah," Alec readily returned, voice rising with comprehension. Felt a tad guilty when Sam's surprised, pleased eyes met his before he mundanely confessed, "Never heard of it."

But Sam laughed instead of getting angry, threw out a "Jerk," before he settled back against the chair, his eyes landing on Dean, glad to see his brother was sleeping well. It was Alec's forlorn tone more than his words that drew his worried look to his other brother.

"You have to teach me to be better at this," Alec said, picking at the bun on his hamburger but having no interest in eating it right then.

Brow creasing, Sam quietly returned, "You mentioned that before, things you wanted me to teach you." Waited for Alec to look at him but he didn't. "You already know how to outrun me, to bench press a car, to go days without sleeping…" he tallied all the things Alec didn't need his help doing, incredible things.

The list, it sounded impressive, even to Alec's ears. But those things hadn't helped him that day. Meant nothing. Raising his head, he met Sam's gentle, open expression. "The hospital…" hated that his voice was choked. He gave a laugh at his own weakness and raised his hand to scratch nervously at the back of his head, wanted to pass this off as something light, to not make it a big deal, to not let Sam see how much it bothered him, this failure.

Sensing Alec's distress, Sam tried to make it easier for his brother. "The hospital trips, they aren't fun," he stated, a sad smile turning up his lips and understanding in his eyes as they held Alec's. "No matter how many times I've gone through it, it's still scary, makes my stomach drop to my feet. I think it should get easier…but it doesn't. Probably shouldn't," he darkly concluded. " I don't want it to get easy, to be…" he paused a moment to find the right word, "acceptable. Because it's not. It might be _normal_ for us but I'm never going to see it as Ok, you know?"

Alec nodded, throat too tight for words even of agreement. Sam knew. Sam knew what it felt like, how he had felt, walking into that hospital, finding Dean unmoving, being the only one there for Dean. Swallowing, he began, "They…they had questions I couldn't answer."

"Yeah, the insurance information is tedious.." Sam returned with a long suffering sigh, but he stopped when Alec shook his head.

"The medical history. Dean's medical history," Alec corrected, forgot to breath as his eyes met Sam's, as he confessed that he had failed Dean, had failed Sam by not doing the job well in Sam's absence.

Comprehension sprang to life in Sam's eyes and he could envision Alec sitting in the hospital desperately trying to fill out Dean's medical history. "Oh crap, Alec," he exclaimed, his words an apology as he dropped the contact card unto the table and leaned over intently toward his brother. "We never went over any of that with you. Man, I can't believe I didn't think of that…that _Dean_ didn't. He's usually anal about that stuff: phone numbers, aliases, backup plans, code words, places to regroup…" he stopped himself from rambling on, of giving more instances where Dean had played mother, father, bodyguard for him of all his life.

"I didn't _know_…" Alec broke off, shook his head, looked out the window over Sam's shoulder. He raised his hand and bit his nail before he spoke again. "They could hardly believe that I was his brother," he quietly admitted, vividly remembered the way the hospital staff had looked at him after he had told them the truth, that he didn't know much about his own brother, not much at all.

"Who?!" Sam sharply demanded, livid that anyone would doubt Alec's place in Dean's life, in his.

"The hospital staff," Alec answered, forced himself to draw his hand from his mouth and face Sam again. "I couldn't answer any of their questions.." He gave a bitter laugh. "Well, I could answer a few…but not with the truth."

Sam nodded sadly, "I know how you feel." At Alec's skeptical look, he again leaned back in his chair, spared a look to Dean before he returned his focus to Alec. "After Stanford…Dean was practically…" but Sam couldn't label what they were then as strangers…but in the same breath, they had not been brothers again, not like they were before. "I didn't know him like I had as a kid," he modified, saw not judgment in Alec's eyes but compassion. "I hadn't seen him in four years…hadn't even talked to him in two…" he shifted in his chair, not liking the memories of those lonely times, times that he had once been so proud of surviving on his own. "He had been hunting all that time…non stop. He had…" Sam bit his lip a moment, "new scars, new "war stories" that he never told me about. Wouldn't tell me about."

Recognizing that the conversation was hard for Sam, Alec broke in, "Sam you don't have to tell me this, any of it. I just…"  
"I want to tell you," Sam insisted, voice gentle. "I know what it's like being outside Dean's walls and wanting to get in. He doesn't talk about his hunts when I was at college. Solo hunts or hunts with our Dad. Not when we first teamed up again…and not even now. It makes me feel…"

"That neither one of us would like what we hear?" Alec finished, having already picked up on the dark vibes whenever Dean shied away from talking about his father. Or previous hunts that didn't involve Sam.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, voice thick. "And when Dean was in the hospital after his heart attack and they handed me that medical history chart…" Sam wavered, looked across the room at Dean as if just the sight of his brother gave him strength. "I realized that I didn't know what he had been through the past four years, what injuries he had had when I wasn't _there_."

Alec could hear the guilt in Sam's tone and felt a thousand times guilty himself for hurting Sam with his questions. "Sam, I didn't mean to open up …well old wounds," he sardonically finished, received a smirk from Sam for his efforts.

"Speaking of old wounds…" Sam drawled, getting them back on track. "I'll give you the run down on Dean's medical history and mine. Well, what's safe for publication," he tacked on with a cocky smile that wiped away the sorrow of a minute ago. "But Dean's the real expert at filing out the forms and stonewalling questions we can't answer truthfully. He used to do it for our Dad all the time, probably started doing it when he was barely nine years old." But then Sam seemed to remember his audience and gave a sad smirk, "Course look who I'm talking to? Nine probably seems a capable age to you with your training?"

And Alec, he remembered being nine years old. Recalled daily sessions at the shooting range, combat exercises that taught him how to kill someone with his bare hands, survival training that meant he was dumped into a dark forest and told that a predator would be coming after him, that he would have to kill to survive. And through it all, he remembered being scared, of feeling alone even surrounded by his fellow X series soldiers, of wishing he could just kick around a ball in a park like he had seen a kid do when his team had gone into a city to complete a mission. '_Good times_,' he bitterly labeled. "Nine years of life," he shook his head ruefully, "it's not enough time to have learned how to not be scared but it is time enough to know that you don't want responsibilities and that you want to have someone in the world that you can count on, that would help you if you asked," Alec openly acknowledged, realized that Dean hadn't been able to be that carefree kid kicking the ball in the park anymore than he had. That neither one of them had had a childhood of safety or of fun. Had both grown up with duties to perform and danger to face…and fear. Always fear.

Glad that Alec didn't belittle Dean's brave actions at nine anymore than he would their brother's selfless actions at twenty nine, Sam solemnly agreed, "Yeah. You're right. Nine years old is nine years old."

Wanting to wade out of deep waters, Alec drawled out with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, "Course I was an obedient nine year old where as Dean…."

"Was already a pro at talking back to every adult that wasn't our Dad," Sam readily supplied. "Didn't matter to Dean if a guy was in Harley leathers, a teacher's three piece suit or a cop uniform, he didn't back down. At all."

"So nothing's changed," Alec smirked and he and Sam broke into muted laughter. Yup nothing had changed at all. Not with Dean in twenty years and not with Alec's new family, regardless that he had failed his first round of Family Medical History 101. Knew it was lucky for him that the Winchesters, though they knew a truckload about revenge, their real specialty was forgiveness and loyalty.

SNDASNDASNDA

Dean beat Alec to the punchline, woke up before Alec could do his hourly head check at the strike of 3am. Having detected his brother shifting in his sleep a few moments before and predicting what it heralded, Alec had stiffly come out of his chair and crossed to Dean's bed. Was standing there, patiently waiting, when his brother's eyes opened and alighted on him.

"Hey," Dean greeted, voice rough with receding sleep.

"In pain?" Alec asked quietly, for Dean's sake as well as for Sam's, who was finally conked out on the other bed, of course fully clothed and on top of the covers, ready to be called upon to perform his brotherly duty at a moment's notice.

His defenses down, Dean starkly acknowledged, "Yeah." Because, with his return to consciousness, the pain that had jarred him from deep sleep was now cresting over him like a tidal wave.

Trying to not overreact to Dean's blunt admission to pain, Alec calmly snagged the bill bottle off the table and dumped two pain pills into his hand. Claiming a seat on the bed, he supported Dean's raised head as he dropped the pills into Dean's open mouth. Grabbing the water glass, he carefully rested the lip of the glass against Dean's lips, let his brother take his fill before he sat the glass back on the nightstand.

That they sat there in silence. The random light from car headlights streaking across the room's dark interior as they stared at each other until Dean tilted his head as if he had found something curious in his brother's expression. "Aren't you supposed to be asking me twenty questions or something?" he lightly joked, could sense that Alec had something he wanted to say to him. He could always tell when Sam or Alec had something troubling ping ponging around in their heads.

Alec smirked at Dean's teasing probe but didn't rise to the bait, was still processing his earlier conversation with Sam, still trying to come to terms with the number of injuries that both of his brothers had sustained. And that was just the injuries that were print-worthy, that Sam _knew_ about.

At Alec's silence, Dean's breath caught. When Alec traded a barb for silence, it was time for a talk, a serious one. "Alright. Out with it."

"Out with what?" Alec innocently asked, trying to shrug the tension out of his shoulders.

"The chick flick moment you're holding back or the dark confession you think I'll judge you for or, I don't know, telling me that you turned my favorite socks green.." Dean prodded, was purposefully using Alec's deference for joking when things were at their toughest against him.

Picking the topic he was best suited to face, Alec countered, "Dean, all your socks are black. Can't change their color even if I wanted to.."

'_One down, two topics to go_,' Dean thought, knew it couldn't be something easy, not with the look in Alec's eyes. "You know, normally I love our witty banter, could spend hours…no, _days_ carrying out one single conversation with you…"

"But you're hoping I get to my point tonight…soon," Alec lightly returned, knew that, contrary to his words, Dean would take all the time in the world to get out of him what was bothering him. That was just how selfless Dean was. "Ok. You said that you were hurt and your Dad took you to Lydecker to patch you up."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, suddenly knowing in his gut that, with that opening, Alec's question was going to be a doozy.

"Did that happen a lot?" Alec asked even as he knew it might be none of his business, was prior to his adoption into Dean's family, was before he was even a cell in a Petri dish. But he pressed on anyway because he had to know, wanted to know and Dean wasn't shutting him out, not yet. "You being hurt and not going to the hospital?"

Dean didn't flinch at the question, had had some experience evading such questions from Child Protection Services and Sam and even Bobby once upon a time. But he found he didn't want to lie to Alec, didn't want to hide the truth from his newest brother. "Define 'A lot'?" he sardonically returned because, not hiding the truth was a thousand meters away from wanting to paint the true picture for Alec.

Dean's reply, the mocking, sorrowful inflection in his words, it was answer enough for Alec. It told him everything that he had tried to deny the past few hours. Skittering away from Dean's probing eyes, he looked down at his hands, didn't want sympathy or understanding or anger or condemnation or guilt or…whatever he was feeling to be visible to Dean. Needed to figure it out for himself first.

Not quite sure what he had seen flash in Alec's eyes but recognizing the turmoil roiling off of his brother, Dean tried to make it better, whatever Alec was feeling. "Course if Dad had taken me to a hospital that time instead of Lydecker's, you wouldn't be here right now." The statement earned him Alec's surprised eye contact. "So all in all, things worked out pretty awesome," he proclaimed, his smile 100% genuine.

"So all's well that ends well?" Alec scoffed at Dean's 'glass is half full' attitude. Suddenly he realized that he wasn't willing to forgive Dean's father for carelessly risking Dean's life or Lydecker for treating Dean like a test subject. No matter what advantages he had gained by both men's actions.

"Sounds about right," Dean calmly and indisputably returned, smile still boldly turning up his lips. He was more than satisfied with the past, was happy at the way things had played out. Even a thousand times grateful.

"After all you've been through…." Alec began heatedly, wished Dean could see that he deserved more, better, a million times better. But Dean's smile turned smugly satisfied, as if he himself had something to do with the way things had turned out. "You're incredible, you know that?" he retorted, meaning it as an insult.

"Oh, I know. I _know_," Dean cockily agreed, eyes shining with mirth that only increased with Alec's rising irritation.

"Go back to sleep," Alec groused as he stood up but stopped when Dean spoke, his brother's mirth having turned to gentle strength.

"If Ben hadn't gone off the rails…Sam and I probably would have never found out about you," Dean pointed out, having thought of the strange coincidences that had lead him to Alec on more than one occasion. "Just because bad things happen…doesn't mean something good can't come out of it."

Dean's statement ripped the breath right out of Alec. He had never thought of it that way. That it wasn't a trail of good things that had led him to his brothers' side but an unrelenting string of bad events that had brought him right where he was. Had corralled him to be at the right spot at the right time. To be right where his brothers could find him.

Seeing that Alec, at his words, wasn't looking forlorn anymore but astonishingly blest, Dean nonchalantly dismissed his deep revelation, "Anyway, food for thought." But he groaned as the words left him. "Ah, let's not talk food right now," he moaned, his stomach churning at even the thought of a piece of pie. Pointing to the rollaway cot, he ordered, "Get some sleep, Alec. We have a ghost to torch and burn in the morning."

Alec opened his mouth to protest the notion of Dean burning and toasting _anything_ tomorrow but without preamble Dean rolled over, put his back to him. Before he could feel hurt by the gesture, his brother grumbled over his shoulder at him.

"And we've talked about you watching me sleep. It's creepy with a capital C. So stop it. Sleep. Now." Then as if reading the continued objection in Alec's mind, Dean drowsily gave proof of his right to order Alec around, "Cause I'm the oldest."

Alec couldn't help smiling and giving a chortle of laughter. He countered whisper soft, "Yeah and I'm the strongest and Sam's the tallest, what's your point?" even as he heard his brother's breathing change as sleep overtook him.

Bending down closer to his brother, Alec pulled the covers over Dean's shoulder and studied his brother's lax facial features, was glad to see the lines of pain were fading. Then he retreated, not to the rollaway cot but back to the table. Using the free pen and paper provided by the motel, he quickly, decisively scribbled down something on the paper. Then, ripping it free of the pad, he folded it into a small square and pulled out his wallet. He started to slide it into an unused flap of his leather wallet but, to his surprise, his fingers discovered that the space was already occupied.

Frowning, he withdrew the existing paper, found it was a card…exactly like Dean's. Was an emergency contact card with four names on it written in Dean's familiar, treasured handwriting.

Dean Ford

Sammy Hooker

Max Guevera

Robert Ludlow

The names blurred as Alec was torn between laughing and crying. Dean had done it again. Had given him what he needed. Even when he didn't ask for it, hadn't known he even required it. Had given him more than he could have ever dreamed of having.

Sliding the contact card back into his wallet, he happily crumbled up the paper he had written on a moment ago: his own list of emergency contacts. A list boasting only 2 names: his brothers'. '_Leave it up to Dean to not only create a contact list for me but to think to put Max and Bobby on it_," he warmly thought, shaking his head as he looked to his big brother before his eyes slid over to Sam. Both of his brothers slept soundly knowing that their family was intact, was safe, that, yeah, things had gone badly today but…sometimes amazing, wonderful things did emerge out of the flames of near destruction.

Alec was still smiling as he climbed into the cot Dean had ordered him to. Found that he didn't mind at all that, while other families kept their family tree in the front of a Bible, his was masquerading as an emergency contact card in his wallet.

SNDASNDASNDASNDA

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	8. Chapter 8: Got Your Back

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

Author's Note: I'm going to do some jumping around on my AU time line and set this about a year since the chapter 7 events. Hope you don't mind. I just wanted something more lighthearted to write. This one shot features Dean and Max with a little of Alec and Sam. Unbetaed so all mistakes are mine.

SNDASNDASNDASNDASNDA

Chapter 8 – Got Your Back

SNDASNDASNDASNDASNDA

Above the din of noise in Terminal City's command center, Dean just barely heard the musical notes of his cell phone. "Hello," he answered, was disappointed that it wasn't one of his brothers' voices on the other end of the call.

Max watched as Dean covered his ear, tried to hear his caller, gave up and stepped out of the command center. Deciding that she had let the chaos go on long enough, she whistled, brought the room to a standstill. "Chill people. I know we have a lot to do in a short time so let's stop talking and start acting. Piper, Justice, Malcolm, you guys do some research on our newest investors. Dix, Henry, get working on our communication uplinks. The rest of you, you know your stations, get to them." And it was with satisfaction that she saw no one questioned her leadership, effectively disbursed to do as she ordered them to. She felt a pang of regret that Alec wasn't there to see her in action, to see that she hadn't fallen apart when he had left and she wouldn't fall apart when he and his brothers ended their little stopover in TC. That she loved him enough to let him go and go and go until he could stay…stay…Stay.

She tracked Dean's reentrance into the command center. It was just luck that she heard his "Well, I'm off to see a man about some guns," as he cut across the room. He gave her a wave before he disappeared out the door into the hallway.

Quickly dodging through the groups assembled in the command center, Max burst out the door, called to Dean's back, "You're going now?!" voice incredulous and disapproving.

Not bothering to stop his progress, Dean replied, "Meeting the guy in half an hour," raising his voice to be heard, though with Max's hearing it seemed a stupid gesture once he thought about it.

Max trail behind Dean for a few uncertain steps. "But Alec and Sam aren't back yet."

Dean gave a mocking laugh, "Yeah so."

Anger flared in Max, showed in her next words. "You need someone to have your back," she stated, wondering how Dean and Alec had turned out so reckless when Sam wasn't.

At that, Dean turned around, walked backwards, gave Max his big cocky smile. "Someone does have my back. Smith and Wesson." He patted his back where his gun lay nestled against the base of his spine, cold, hard and reassuring.

It took Max a second of indecision before she trotted to Dean's side. "I'm going with you," she announced in her best command voice. Wasn't all that surprised that it had no effect on Dean.

Dean stopped and glared down at Max. "The whole _point_ of my going is so they don't know they're selling to transgenics," he drawled as if Max was ignorant of why they were using his contacts, why Max's crew were in such dire straits to find a dealer to supply them the weapons they needed. Weapons not only to defend themselves but to continue their Good Samaritan operations, because sometimes, they weren't up against nature.

Instead of arguing the truth of Dean's words, Max countered, "I'll stay out of sight." '_But I'll keep you in sight_,' she internally vowed, not even wanting to guess how angry Alec would be if she let Dean face this danger alone. Danger that she had asked Dean to put himself in.

"Yeah, because you're not going," Dean sternly shot back, green eyes blazing with strength.

Walking by Dean, Max headed for TC's version of a garage. She wasn't going to back down. No matter how Dean roared. '_And I'm calling dibs on Alec's motorcycle, too._'

"Did you hear me?! You're not going!" Dean growled, stalking after the brunette transgenic, wishing Alec was there to talk sense into Max.

SNDASNDASNDA

Pulling their motorcycles to a stop, Dean and Max scoped out the meeting area.

"I'll take up position there," Max said, pointing to the rumble of an old building. "I should be able to hear your conversation. So if you get into trouble…."  
"I won't," Dean snapped but he was wearing his charming, 'I've got everything under control' smile.

With trepidation, Max watched Dean navigate his bike over the destroyed blacktop and jump over the remains of shipping crates as he barreled down the hill. He came to a skidding stop at the designated meeting spot. Clearly Dean was having the time of his life while she was debating if she should call Alec, tell him what they were doing. Because if something, _anything_ happened to Dean, Alec would never forgive her. Never.

SNDASNDASNDA

Leaning against the motorcycle, eyes closed to enjoy the bright sunlight, Dean was almost frustrated to hear the approaching car. Opening his eyes, he remained immobile as the vehicle pull up to his side. But when the man got out of the car, he undertoned, "Oh crap," before he stood up, greeted the arms dealer with sarcastic cheer. "Perry, I thought I killed you."

The arms dealer didn't seem surprised at all to see who his buyer was, seemed rather pleased, in an evil, satisfied way. "Yeah and I thought my bullet to your gut would have finally put you down. Guess we're both disappointed. And if I had any scruples…"

"Which you don't," Dean cut in, his gaze unflinchingly on the other man's. This was a high stakes poker game against a player that had bested in him in the past, would best him today if he let his hand show.

For a beat the two men stared each other down. Then Perry smiled, drawled, "You're right. I don't have scruples. If I did, I wouldn't even consider dealing with you again, would finish you off right now."

Dean didn't react outwardly to the threat, only smiled his shark's smile. "But to you, money's money."

"Except my shoulder where you shot me…" Perry rubbed his shoulder dramatically, "it aches something fierce when it's cold. And in this crappy town, it's always cold." Stepping closer to Dean, he spoke lower, eyes challenging Dean, taunting him to retreat. "Course maybe you're thinking it's a….funky town."

At the man's goad, at his blatant knowledge of his code word for trouble, Dean merely smiled darkly, unshaken. "Nah. Town's just fine." He took a step closer to Perry, proving that he wasn't intimidated by the other man. "What sucks is my present company. So how about we talk terms and stow the catching up chit chat."

But before Perry could reply, the whine of an engine ripped through the air. A moment later, a motorcycle made a dramatic entrance into their meeting.

Max brought the bike neatly onto the space between Dean and the arm's dealer, sent the rear tire slamming into the arm's dealer even as the man reached into his pocket, most likely for his gun. Head swiveling to Dean, she barked, "Get on!"

Seeing that Perry was down on the ground but trying to climb to his feet, that he had gotten his gun free of his pocket, Dean, knowing that time for talk was over, hopped on the back of Max's bike. Max sent the bike sailing over the broken macadam, mud splashing up to douse bike and riders alike. He ducked as a bullet thunked into the rear fender of the bike. Felt himself morph from frustrated to royally pissed.

The world whirled by them as Max expertly got them back on a main road, dodged the dense traffic. "What were you thinking?! You just blew our deal!" Dean yelled, words whipped away by the wind, growling when Max's black locks of hair slapped him in the face.

Senses focused on driving and with Dean's anger tangible, Max defensively shot back over her shoulder, "You said funky town!"

"No! He did!" Dean hissed, cursing himself for taking Max along, for not handling the meet himself like he had wanted to.

For a moment, Dean's statement diminished Max's victory but the next second, as the conversation she had heard CLEARLY between the two men came back to her, she stood by her decision, regardless if it had been provoked by a false start. "Doesn't matter. He was going to kill you."

"No, he wasn't!" Dean growled back, knew enough about Perry to know that money always won out with him.

Incredulously, Max spared a glare over her shoulder at Alec's brother. "He shot you before. I heard that part clearly."

"So?!" Dean scoffed, wondering why Max sounded pissed at the occurrence and he wasn't. "Sam shot me too and you don't see me holding a grudge."

"What?!" Max exclaimed, caught off guard enough by the statement that the bike's steering wobbled. She had to work hard to miss a slow moving truck.

"Nothing," Dean denied with a mumbled breath he knew Max heard. "Maybe this isn't a loss. Pull over and I'll call him…renegotiate."

"What?! Are you crazy? No." Max retorted, voice rising

"Perry's all about the money. He'll listen to reason." Pulling his cellphone out of his pocket, Dean started to dial Perry's direct number from memory, was startled when Max, while keeping the bike on the straight and narrow, snagged his phone from his hand and tossed it. His head swung around behind them to watch as his phone bounced along the road, broke into pieces. "Why'd you do that?!" he demanded in astonishment and anger.

"You're not meeting with him again," Max stated, wasn't going to budge on this, not one percent.

"Why not?!"

"Because if I let something happen to you, Alec will never forgive me!" Max flung back heatedly but she cringed at the words, at the truth of them. Hadn't meant to speak them aloud, especially to Dean.

For a beat Dean remained silent then his quiet, confused words reached Max. "Come again?"

"You heard me fine," Max said, didn't want to repeat her words, they were running through her head often enough as it was.

"For one thing, I didn't need your backup today. And number two, I had things under control. And three, Alec would be pissed if I let anything happen to you."

Max only bothered to verbally contest one of Dean's statements. "Like I need you to protect me."

"Right back at you," Dean snapped.

SNDASNDASNDASND

Pulling in TC's garage, Max cut the engine even as Dean jumped off the bike and was stalking away from her.

Dean came up short as Alec's figure melted out of the dark corner of the underground tunnel, felt himself tense like he always had was his Dad was gearing up to chew him out for doing something he didn't like. But Alec's searing gaze, it didn't even flicker in his direction, was focused on something behind him. On someone. Yeah, if Max had one scratch on her he was so going to be in Alec's doghouse and Alec probably wouldn't listen to reason, believe that he hadn't wanted her tagging along with him.

As Alec bypassed his brother, Max tensed, told herself that she deserved the dressing down Alec was about to give her. That it was an understood thing between them, that she would protect his brothers if he ever wasn't able to. And today, Dean had almost been killed. On her watch. She inhaled, ready to take all the blame…but Alec walked right by her, went to his _bike._

"What did you do to her?" Alec aguishly accused, hand reaching out to tenderly stroke the scratched and muddy frame of his motorcycle.

At his brother's question, Dean shared an astonished look with Max. They had both been wrong. Alec was pissed that they let something happen to his _bike_. Not to them. "Huh," Dean grunted, realizing just how it felt when someone showed more concern, more affection for a machine than for him. '_I think I owe Sam a huge apology_.'

Max couldn't help the smile at Dean's little boy hurt look. Suddenly, she felt a little like his big sister, that she needed to have that talk with him about siblings sometimes wanting to play with someone other than him. "Come on, I could use a drink," she suggested, was glad to see Dean snap out of his stupor.

"Oh…yeah," Dean agreed, trailing behind Max, leaving Alec to fuss over his beloved bike.

SNDASNDASNDA

Dean was on his second drink and Max her first when Alec stormed into Terminal City's version of a bar. "There's a bullet hole in the rear panel?!" he heatedly announced, eyes swinging between his brother and Max, demanding an explanation.

"It still runs," Dean reassured quickly, not wanting Alec to think he purposefully would destroy something that he loved. "And we can buffet it out. You'll never know…"

"Would you forget about the stupid bike!" Alec thundered, green eyes alive with anger and something much stronger. "I just learned where you were. What were you two thinking going out there without backup?!" his incredulousness only trumped by his fury.

Indignantly Dean stated, "I had backup."

"Yeah, I had his back," Max concurred, resentful that Alex was questioning her, doubted that she would protect his brothers with the last of her strength.

But Alec wasn't appeased. Instead his voice rose with his blood pressure. "You could have been killed, both of you! You two are never…never going on a mission together again."

Without missing a beat, Dean raised his glass, "I'll drink to that."

"Suits me just fine," Max readily capitulated to Alec's order as she clinked her glass against Dean's, completing the toast.

In confusion, Alec stood frozen, eyes studying his brother and his girlfriend, had the sinking feeling that he had just given them exactly what they wanted. That maybe he had been played.

"Cheers to funkytown," Dean toasted, was again seconded by Max's glass against his as they took another swallow of their liquor.

"Funkytown," Alec breathed, worry again climbing at the code word. "That's it. I want to hear it all. From the top."

Max and Dean's eyes met over their shot glasses and they contemplated staying allies.

"He's reckless."

"She's uptight."

As Dean and Max spoke at the same time, contradicted each other, Alec sighed and claimed the chair beside Max. This wasn't going to be fun.

Pulling out his cellphone, Alec called the other member of his family for backup. "Sam, I tracked 'em down. They are in the bar," he paused, listening to Sam before he clarified, "No, it's the room to the left of the classroom." He sighed. "No, that's not the classroom. It's where you and Dean said the pool table should go." Nodding, he hung up the phone, knew that he could speak his brother's language with a little work.

"Sam's coming," he threatened like a true tattle tale, his eyes on Dean.

Dean mumbled, "Snitch," before he drained his glass. Standing up, he planned to make his escape before Sam arrived, before his brother truly ripped him a new one for being "reckless." But he found Alec in his path, effectively cutting off any plans he had to leave him in the dust. He startled when Alec gripped his jacket, began patting him down, doing his medical inspection thing. "Whoa," he articulated, shoving Alec's hands away before they got too personal. "Do that frisking thing with her, not me," he groused, head tilting to Max who was watching the show, an almost tender look in her eyes.

"Max isn't stupid enough to hide injuries, you are," Alec justified, heat in his tone and no mercy in his penetrating look.

Dean's glare shifted from Alec to Max's smug, smiling features. He was about to come back with something witty when Sam's voice joined the fray.

"What injuries?" Sam demanded, quickly entering the room to come to a stand in front of Dean, taking his rightful place at Alec's side. "Are you hurt?" he asked with concern, hand reaching out as if he too would try the medical examination routine.

Dean stepped back out of Sam's grip and threw out a deflection, "It was Max he was aiming for, not me." Couldn't help smirking as Alec and even Sam's gaze abandoned him for Max.

Coming off the chair, Max shot back, "He was aiming for us both," standing toe to toe with Dean.

"You were the one who broke up the party, that got him pissed, not me," Dean retorted, facing Max, forgetting that the argument was garnering his brothers' rapt attention.

Max knew it was time to one up Dean. She chose to draw out her words, "Well, you're the one that the arms dealer shot before…not me."

"Shot before?!" came in stereo from Alec and Sam. Dean's brothers forced their way between he and Max, were both wearing expressions of worry and retribution.

Over his brothers' tense shoulders, Dean saw Max's mouth curve up into a bold smile. Then she sank back down into her chair like a cat settling into a nice comfortable position to enjoy the show. Dean couldn't fight the smirk that pulled at his lips as he conceded that Max had won this round. And wasn't that what family was about? One upping each other.

Seeing Dean's good natured look of surrender, Max's smile turned affectionate. She and Dean didn't have to compete for Alec's love…they already had it. And maybe watching out for Dean and for Sam, it wasn't all for Alec's sake. For a girl who had spent years searching for her family, it was an overwhelming gift to realize that she had formed a new family without even trying. That Alec had not only given her his heart but had unselfishly allowed her to gain two brothers: his.

And in Max's book, family protected family. Sliding off her seat, she slipped to Dean's side and raised her hand, stopped Alec and Sam's third degree of her adopted brother. "Chill. He's fine, all in one piece…" she interceded, enjoyed Dean's surprised and grateful expression before she boasted, "I protected him this time." It earned the response she expected.

"Protected me?! I didn't need protecting?" Dean thundered and Max simply smiled wider, winked at Sam and Alec. If anyone picked on her family, it was going to be her. Sam and Alec, they would just have to stand in line to get in on this round.

SNDASNDASNDASNDA

Thanks for reading!

Have a wonderful Day.

Cheryl W.


	9. Chapter 9 What Matters Most pt 1

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

Author's Note: This next storyline arc is for bhoney, who was so very kind and bid on Stacie's Auction for a story from me! She gave me some awesome plot lines and great scenes to incorporate into this tale so if you like it, some of the credit absolutely needs to go to her and her devious, Dean-hurting, brotherly angst loving tendencies. But really, she shaped this story and I'm hoping that she enjoys it and that you do too.

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Chapter 9 ~ What Matters Most – part 1

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Maybe if Alec hadn't been so proud of himself for finding, in one of the touristy town's gift shops, an embossed 'Chevy Impala' keychain for Dean, he would have remembered that taking notice of his surroundings was paramount to surviving, would have recognized the dark suburban parked on the street for what it was: government issue. If he hadn't still been laughing softly at Dean's phone message of _'Let's give it another hour and then_ _call it a night …but don't come home without the pie_' he just might have sensed the danger. If he hadn't still been shaking his head at the notion that Dean considered a rundown motel as home when he knew _his_ home wasn't a location at all, if he hadn't been eagerly anticipating a night kicking back in a motel with his brothers, watching a baseball game, doing something so normal, like a million families across the country would be doing, he probably would have recognized the twinge in his gut as dread.

But as it was, the attack was wholly unexpected.

When something pierced his back, he gave a grunted cry of surprised pain. Instinctively breaking into a run, he turned down the nearest alley, was aiming for the relative cover of a trash dumpster when his legs failed him, simply stopped functioning. Panic blossomed over him as he toppled to the ground like an axed tree, a thousand possibilities and outcomes for such an attack flipping through his mind even as darkness stole over him. His final thoughts were of his brothers: wondered if they too were in danger, regretted that, if he wasn't going to come out of this encounter alive, he hadn't had more time with them.

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When Alec entered the motel room, Dean was rising from the bed where his weapons, gleaming from the recent cleaning, were arrayed. "Took you long enough. Surprised Sam didn't beat you here," he greeted, giving Alec a quick glance as he crossed over the room to his bag, began rummaging in its depths for his wet stone to sharpen his knife.

"That's good news for me. And I'm sorry…"

Dean wasn't looking at Alec, was only half concentrating on what his brother was saying as he rooted in his bag. "Sorry for what?" he distractedly asked.

"That you're making this so _easy_," his brother drawled, a darkness in his tone that snagged Dean's attention.

Before Dean could turn around, could face Alec, could begin to decipher his brother's emotions, he sensed movement over his head. Reacting on instincts, he raised his left hand to ward off an attack, listened to the sixth sense he had for danger, regardless of what his heart was telling him, that Alec was no danger to him. It was the only reason that the garrote wire that Alec coiled around his neck tore through the skin and muscle of his _arm _instead of severing his neck artery. He gave a startled groan of agony as the wire was pulled taut, dug into the right side of his neck, ripped further into his arm. Viciously, he was yanked back against his brother's chest.

Reaching back with his right hand, Dean grabbed Alec's wrist, tried to loosen the tension of the wire coiled around his throat. But Alec was too strong, and the skin under his frantic grip, it wasn't sliding off, wasn't a deception. Ruling out a shapeshifter, he weakly choked out, "Christo," but at the utterance of God's name, he didn't detect any flinch in the man behind him.

With the evidence in, cold horror flowed through Dean's veins. He wasn't up against a possessed Alec or a shapeshifter wearing his brother's face. The person trying to kill him…it was his own brother. Not having the time to rationalize what could have brought this on, a ghost, drugs, mind control, he focused on getting through to Alec because, he could feel the rivets of blood running down his neck, knew the only reason the wire wasn't severing his arm was because the wire had met bone. But with Alec having continually tightening his grip on the garrote wire, he couldn't draw in enough air to even say his brother's name in a plea, to pray that he could break through whatever haze Alec was in.

'_Alec is really going to kill me_,' he brutally realized, felt the wire slice further into his neck as if to prove his point. Knew he couldn't let that happened, not just for his sake but for Alec's, for Sam's. Snapping his head back sharply, it connected with Alec's nose, caused a nominal loosening in the wire's insidious hold on him. Pushing backwards, he drove him and Alec in reverse until his brother's back hit the wall, the impact threatening to shake the lame painting of a horse from its nails. He sent an elbow into Alec's ribs but his brother's lethal strength didn't lessen, instead it increased.

Dean gave a cry of pain as the garrote sank deeper into his neck, radiated pain through his nerve endings. His survival instincts told him to reach for the duffle bag on the table to his right, to retrieve the lone knife he had kept there. But the idea fled as soon as it surfaced. If it truly was down to the matter of him dying or Alec, his choice was already made. He would die to save Alec, same as he had been willing to do for Sam.

With his decision made, his body voluntarily took the next step, began to shut down. Lethargy stole over him, made his hand too heavy to retain its grip on Alec's arm. Fingers slipping free, his arm dangled at his side. He struggled to draw in breath, to blink away the darkness edging his vision as he was pulled harder against Alec's lean, solid frame.

'_I hope Sam can get through to Alec. That he doesn't blame Alec for things I don't think Alec can help_,' he thought, praying that his brothers could survive this, could figure out a way to remain together, to assign blame where it belonged, to forgive and forget. Wanted Alec to know, to remember that he loved him, that he didn't blame him for this, that Sam shouldn't either. "It's.." he heaved out, forced a rasping breath into his lungs before he could speak again, voice destroyed, so quiet that it would take Alec's supersonic hearing to pick it up, "Ok."

Somewhere it registered with Dean, even as his legs started to buckle under him, that the garrote stilled in its path, that the body behind him went rigid. And then Sam walked into the motel room.

For a second, Sam couldn't process what he was seeing: Dean and Alec struggling, a wire wrapped around Dean's throat, embedded in Dean's wrist. Blood. The grim determined, lethal expression Alec wore and Dean going limp.

In the brotherly conflict, Sam instantly sided with Dean, never gave a thought that Dean somehow wasn't Dean. His loyalties were as steadfast as they had been in that cabin when he had walked back into the room to find Dean pointing a gun at their father.

"Let him go!" he barked, intending to get Alec away from Dean anyway he could. But before he could get within an arm's length of Alec, Alec delivered a powerful kick to his sternum that propelled him backwards across the room to land on his back, breath knocked out of him.

Releasing the ends of the garrote, carelessly letting Dean crumble bonelessly to the ground, the transgenic stepped over Dean, barely felt the weak hand that the man tried to wrap around his ankle as he headed for Sam. Didn't hurry his pace when Sam got to all fours, was stumbling toward the bed and cache of weapons his first target hadn't utilized.

"Christo," Sam shouted, hated that Alec smiled instead of flinched, that his brother's approach was resolute and menacing.

"That's not my name. You must have me confused with someone else," a smirk accompanying the words.

Surging to his feet, Sam nearly landed on the bed in his haste to grab the first weapon he could. Spinning he aimed the gun at Alec's leg but never squeezed the trigger. Never got the chance. With the speed Manticore had gifted him with, Alec was instantly there, ripping the gun away from him like he had only the weak grip of a child. Then Alec was coiling his hand in his jacket and tossing him backwards, away from the bed and the weapons on it.

Hitting the wall, Sam crashed to the ground, breath ragging out of him. He found himself now eyelevel with Dean, who had a hand to his neck trying to stop himself from bleeding out even as he was stubbornly trying to climb to his feet, to come to his aid.

Forcing himself to look away from Dean, to look up to his younger brother who had come to a stop beside him, Sam implored, "You don't have to do this, Alec! You can stop yourself."

Crouching down beside Sam, Alec smiled but it was a frigid expression on the face Sam thought he knew so well. "That's what no one seems to understand. I don't want to stop myself." And then his hand shot out, wrapped around Sam's neck and his fingers contracted.

Frantically, Sam gripped Alec's arm, tried to break his brother's stranglehold but he was no match for the transgenic's strength. Starkly he realized then that he and Dean had never been a match against Alec, that Alec was never their equal in strength. That Alec, he had only obeyed their commands, yielded his alpha position to them because he loved them. "Alec, please. We're family.." he choked out the plea, needed to reach Alec, to get Alec to remember that they were brothers, that he and Dean loved him. "You can fight this…"

But Alec laughed darkly. "Fight it? I live for this. Only for this."

His brother's declaration stole more of Sam's air away from him, made his heart clench in agony, sent his confusion soaring…and then the door was kicked in and two men dressed in black body amour surged into the room, rifles scanning the room. He we He atched as Alec sprang upon the first man, slapped the rifle out of the soldier's grip like he had the gun from his own and propelled the man head first into the door. Fleetingly he wondered if Alec was trying to protect him and Dean or if it was the strangers who were there to protect them. Realized it didn't matter, he was siding with Alec, would always champion his family, no matter how out of synch they were with each other. "No!" he shouted as the second soldier turned a handgun on Alec, squeezed the trigger.

The transgenic growled in fury but didn't have the chance to remove the tranquilizer dart from his shoulder before he pitched forward, unconscious.

Relieved that the soldier wasn't using bullets, Sam reached out to touch Alec's prone figure. His head snapped up as three more men, similarly clad as the first two, strode into the room. A rifle butt slammed into his shoulder, toppled him backwards onto the floor. Staring up at the two rifle muzzles pointed at him, he didn't believe for a second that the rifles fired tranq darts, or that the men glaring down at him would feel squeamish about putting a bullet through his head.

But the men that walked by him toward Dean drew his attention away from the threat to himself. He tensed as they reached Dean, who was lying on the floor, right hand pressed to his neck. Blood oozed through Dean's fingers to drip onto the floor, joining the growing puddle. Fear and panic raced through Sam at the horrific sight, at the dull look in his brother's usually brilliant eyes as they met his own.

Instead of treating Dean as they did him, Sam watched as the two soldiers crouched down by Dean. Poised to get free of his own guards, to get to Dean somehow and protect him if the soldiers proved a threat, his breath caught as the one solder carefully rolled his brother over onto his back, and gently pried Dean's hand away from his neck, replaced the pressure with a sterile bandage. He noted that the other soldier was winding a bandage around Dean's profusely bleeding arm. Tension melted away as it became clear that these men weren't there to hurt Dean, were helping his brother instead. He felt a spike of gratitude toward the unexpected visitors.

Mind fuzzy with the blood loss, the lack of oxygen, the pain, Dean didn't know what the heck was going on, who the goon squad was and why they were playing medic on him. What he did know was Alec was out for the count and Sam wasn't dead. It was enough of a good thing for him to pacifically let the strangers pry his hand away, to try and staunch the blood pouring out of him, to not fight them when they manhandled him off the ground, started marching him toward the door.

But he revolted, put his feet down when he saw Sam was still on the ground, wasn't being ushered out the door like he was, hadn't been hauled over a shoulder and carried out like Alec had already been. He felt dread at the sight of Sam on the ground, vulnerable under the sights of two rifle barrels. And then his eyes met Sam's. Knew that relief, worry, fear, confusion were clamoring for supremacy in them both. Opening his mouth, Dean wanted to say his brother's name but ended up coughing, bending forward, losing the locked position of his legs. It allowed the two men to strong arm him forward again, through the door. He heard Sam's raised, panicked voice, "Where are you taking him?" As his feet hit the gravel of the motel's parking lot, he heard the soldier's reply to his brother. "It won't matter to you."

Panic blazed across Dean's nerves, gave him the strength, the ability to break free of the hold of the soldiers, to turn around, to take a step back toward the room, toward Sam.

A single rifle shot echoed through the still air.

"No!" Dean screamed, stumbling, running for the door but hands caught him, wrapped around his arms and his torso, held him back from getting to Sam. Then a figure was stepping from the motel room and another. Neither one was his brother. "Sam!" he shouted, pleaded as he struggled to be released, to be free to go to his brother. He was still praying to hear his brother's voice, to even hear Sam grunting in pain when flames crept across the threshold of the door, rose up to create a wall of fire where the door once was. "No! Sam! Sam!" He used every ounce of energy he had, every crumb of strength he retained trying to get free, to make it back to his brother, to save Sam. But it wasn't enough. The soldiers pulled him further away from the burning room, dragged him into a waiting van and slid the door shut, deprived him of seeing the fire catch on the curtains in the window, the smoke billowing out of the room. They unknowingly spared him from watching his brother die the way that his mother had.

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TBC

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I don't mean to spoil the plot but you all know that I wouldn't kill one of the boys right? I do angst, I do harm /comfort but it all comes down to being able to do a sappy happy ending for me. And for that, all beloved characters must survive the tale. Just didn't want any of you needlessly worrying. Dean, though, he can think the worst happened.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	10. Chapter 10: What Matters Most pt 2

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

Author's Note: Thanks so much for the encouragement I was given on this new story arc!

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Chapter 10 – What Matters Most – part 2

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Sluggishly, Alec regained consciousness, was able to fight through the weights on his eyelids and see the world around him for the first time in what felt like years. The scenery wasn't worth the wait. Like the soldier he still was when it was a necessity, he instantly catalogued his findings: he was on the cold cement floor of a warehouse, metal workstations were a few yards in front of him, littered with discarded papers, pens, and tools that indicated that whoever once worked there wasn't coming back and he was alone. The last was the only good news of the day, settled the raging maelstrom in his gut. '_At least whatever crap I've gotten myself into, my brothers aren't being dragged into it this time_,' his relief nearly putting an honest smile on his face.

As he sat up, he rated his head rush as impression. Feeling a spike of pain at the back of his neck, he reached his hand there, found a bandage covering his barcode, dreaded that it might mean another microscopic bomb was lodged at the base of his brain stem. Shifting, he found that one of his ankles was heavier than the other and a clank of metal heralded his every move. Looking to the limb, he grimaced at the sight of the ankle cuff, tracked the chain it was linked to a support beam in the middle of the sparse room.

Reaching down, he struggled to "break" the cuff loose. "Could really use your strength about now, Josh," he mumbled, remembered the way Joshua had so easily pulled the bars straight off the wall at Manticore. He tried not to think of White's group and their proclivity to cage him up like an animal, that chaining him like a dog and using an abandon warehouse was right up their alley. Sure, he had always known that, though White was dead, it didn't mean the cultist had given up their objective to wipe out Manticore's screwups. Namely, him. And he had yet to forgive himself for Dean getting caught in the crosshairs last go around with the cultist, was thanking God that this time wouldn't be a repeat performance. His brothers were safe. He had to believe that or he would go insane, flip his crap right then and there.

The screech of the warehouse's delivery door sliding open had him snapping his head to the right, tensed for whatever, whoever walked through the door. Geared himself up to play it cool, nonchalant, to give them his cocky smile and earn his namesake…both the smart aleck and the Winchester surname. But his composure slipped for a second, shocked to see a too familiar sandy haired, stocky military built man walk into the room. Then he shuffled his turbulent emotions to the rear of his mind, smiled up at his Manticore superior, at the man who had stolen Dean's DNA twenty years ago. "Colonel Lydecker," he cheerfully greeted as the former X-series commander drew to halt just outside his ankle chain's radius. "Alive and well. Here I thought I had missed my chance to speak at your funeral." Didn't want to remember how conflicted he had felt at learning of his commander's "death" nearly a year ago. The death of a man he hated….and had so wanted to earn his approval, a harsh superior and the only father figure he had ever had.

"Would you have said something nice?" Lydecker parried, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips.

"Oh you know me. Lying is one of my best skills," Alec cockily returned, his smile wider than Lydecker but his eyes dark with malice.

"Ranked only second to your impressive kills in the field," Lydecker shot back, his smile shifting to something more harsh as he crouched down to be eyelevel with his former soldier.

Disgust surged through Alec at Lydecker's cutting reference to his proficiency at assassination. He didn't want that skill to be part of him anymore, of the new life he had built, of the family he had been blessed with. Pulling on a smirk, he gave an 'ah shucks' wave of his hand to Lydecker as he replied, "Ah, you're going to make me blush," because showing weakness to an enemy, it was never the right move. Lydecker had taught him that.

Used to Alec's deflections, Lydecker quietly prodded, "Do your brothers know how easily you took lives?" And there was surprisingly no mockery, no sneer in the words, instead there was an intensity to know the answer.

Though it registered with Alec that Lydecker wasn't chastising him for forming a brotherhood with two Ordinaries, his jaw did clench at Lydecker's question, at his mention of his family. At the proof that the Colonel knew about Dean and Sam, his fear for his brothers' safety resurfaced, tainted his ability to maintain the pretense of detachment. "I'm really touched that you staged this reunion, I really am. But I'm on a time schedule, have a golf outing planned. And you know they never want to refund your money if you miss tee time," his tone not as blithe as he had wanted it to be, was too brittle with emotions, too rough with anger.

Lydecker studied his former soldier a moment before he drawled, "Still using the joking to get by. It's admirable, really. But if I remember correctly, you didn't smart mouth anyone in psy-ops after a few days down there."

Alec shrugged good-naturedly, kept his smirk intact as he explained, "It's hard to wisecrack when you're busy screaming."

Lydecker easily read the remembered agony and fear in Alec's eyes. It was the expressiveness in the X-series' eyes that had made him connect with them the most, the emotions that he read in them, that reminded him that these weren't just experiments he was dealing with, were human beings, children. '_My children_,' he possessively claimed, had always had a strong, fatherly attachment for the X5 series children. '_Yeah and that soft spot almost got you killed and it's the reason you're up to your eyeballs in this newest operation._' He had never foreseen where his new alliance would lead him. But once the operational plan was outlined to him, he knew he couldn't go along with it. That, just like he had changed from being Max's pursuer to her protector, he felt that same need flare in him as soon as Alec's name was mentioned, that the X5's part in the plan was revealed.

'_Kids are going to be the death of me for real. Maybe even this kid.' _But that dark prediction didn't change his mind. 494, Alec, had been special to him. The kid had been the best of the best of his soldiers and had still managed to retain his stubborn will, his moral compass, his sense of humor even in light of all the horrors Manticore had visited on him._ 'But most of all, he kept his heart protected, untainted,' _and that was the greatest achievement of any Manticore's prodigies. That trait was also the reason he had objected to Alec being assigned the Berrisford mission. Hadn't wanted Alec forming an emotional attachment to the Berrisfords, to someone that might turn into a target, had wanted to shelter him, as strange as it sounded.

Detecting the start of fear in the green eyes at even his mention of his brothers, Lydecker felt a tightness in his chest loosen, was relieved that Alec hadn't changed that much since he knew him. Renfo hadn't managed to destroy the tender heart or extinguish the light in the kid's eyes. But amid the fear, he saw the threat in Alec's eyes, the protectiveness the X-series kid felt toward his brothers, toward the two men that, by all accounts, loved him as much as he loved them if the scene in the motel room was any small indication.

"I got you released from Psy-Ops, I vouched for you, promised that you would never exhibit the psychotic tendencies of 493," Lydecker stated, needed to begin establishing Alec's trust. Wondered if the kid would ever believe how hard it had been for him to watch Alec being escorted out of his room and taken to Psy-Ops. To stand in that room and hear his screams and know that his hands were tied, that he would need Renfo's approval to get him out of there. Renfo, Manticore's new director who had wanted the committee to believe that all his kids were anomalies like Ben, that 494, Alec, especially had to be executed to preserve the gene pool.

But he hadn't allowed her to gain that approval from committee, had used his political capital and cashed in some personal favors to get Alec freed from Psy-Ops. He had hated that it had taken six long months. Standing at the door to Psy-Ops when the kid walked out, he was so darn happy to see the kid smirk, to be greeted with, "If that's what goes for a vacation around here, next time I'll opt for a mission," that he had reached out, ruffled the kid's hair before he caught himself. Then he tried to cover up the break in his stern façade by slamming the kid against the wall, hissing in his face, "You make one wrong move, disobey one order like you did with the Berrisford mission, being brought back here is the best case scenario. Is that understood?" Never clarifying to 494 that the threat, it wasn't coming from him, was from Renfo, the committee, the machine that was Manticore.

"Yes sir," 494 had obediently replied, the light fading from his eyes as he morphed back into the soldier. And Lydecker had seen it then, the darkness that was part of the kid now, the touch of grief, of betrayal, of heartbreak and lost love. And he hated Renfo for that, that he hadn't been able to spare the kid the pain of emotions he himself knew only too well.

At Lydecker's claim, a memory resurfaced in Alec. Of pain, his throat raw from screaming, of voices, raised voices, Lydecker's voice.

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"I want him out of here, now!"

Then a female voice, Renfo's, casually pointed out, "And I want him terminated. I guess we're both compromising."

"493 was an…"

"Anomaly, Deck?" Renfo smugly said. "Well we can't afford more anomalies. If 494 shows the slightest spike off the normal grid, I will put him down."

"Over my dead body."

"So sentimental. These aren't your children, they are Manticore's weapons. You might want to remember that. It will save you some heartbreak."

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Alec shut down his memories, didn't care if Lydecker happened to save his life. He cared about his brothers, about protecting them, about getting out of here and getting back to them. It was all that mattered.

Snapping his fingers as if he had a "eureka" moment, Alec cheerfully announced, "Yeah and I wanted to send you a fruit basket for getting me out of there. Tell you what, you give me my cell phone, tell me the address here and I'll have it delivered today."

To Alec's surprise, Lydecker _laughed_ at his comeback. Laughed as if he found him amusing instead of being insubordinate. Tilting his head, he studied Colonel Lydecker, wondered if the man he had once known so well had really managed to change. Max had said he was their ally, that he actually seemed to care about them but he wasn't buying it. Max was naïve, didn't know how deep Manticore played their games. '_I should know, I was one of their best operatives. I was the one Renfo assigned to befriend Max, get her trust, so she could lead us to Eyes Only. I betrayed her like a good little soldier, would still be merrily following Renfo's orders if Max hadn't taken down Manticore, hadn't made me see that, to Manticore, I was just a means to an end. A weapon to be destroyed because I was too valuable to get into enemy hands_.'

"Glad to see Renfo didn't break you," Lydecker honestly said, smiling, pride shining in his eyes.

"She taught me to sell out anyone I had to so I could survive another day. You don't call that breaking me?" Alec darkly challenged, self hatred churning through him at all that he had done just to stay alive. He had accepted that, offering to kill other transgenics for White, it was just another part of that groveling.

"It was special conditioning," Lydecker bluntly stated, knew that, as much willpower as Alec always demonstrated, it wasn't enough to counter Manticore's manipulations. "They started the treatments while you were in Psy-Ops. They wanted you to follow any command they gave, unemotionally. Would purge your memories if they deemed it necessary, if they thought the memories would hinder any of your future missions or proclivity to obey." He watched as all color drained from Alec's features, knew that the kid had had no idea what was being initiated in him during his time in Psy-Ops. '_Any more than I did_,' he bitterly admitted, had not had intel during that time to suggest that 494 had been transferred to a special program, Renfo's special program.

An arctic cold spike of fear and dread shafted through Alec. "You mean there are really things I did that I don't remember?" Because the things he did remember? They were horrific enough. He had once told Max, 'You think life was rough when we were ten? Take it from me, later it got a whole lot worse. But you did what you had to do. Then you tried to forget and when you couldn't forget, they had ways of making you not care.' Could it be that they even had ways of making him _forget_? '_Am I a greater monster than I even know? Did I do something that even Dean and Sam won't forgive me for_?'

"It was their end game, to have the perfect, subservient, _unemotional_ soldier. And it still is," Lydecker revealed, knew that, as much as his goal had been to create the perfect soldier, he never wanted them to be without the ability to think for themselves, to use their initiative, their minds. Had never sought to taint their souls, eliminate their hearts and to have them become robots to blindly do the bidding of their masters.

"And that's where you come into the scene," Alec sneered, could see Lydecker for what he was now. A man that had no allegiance, had only his need to continue his experiments, to have his prodigy respected. "The original puppet master back to pull the strings. To try and pull my strings." Letting that tension fall away from him, Alec leaned back and rested his hands on the floor behind him, causally drawled, "Sorry, you're going to have to find another lab rat, Colonel. My loyalties have switched." '_And I don't mean to the transgentics in TC. My loyalty is to my brothers. But Lydecker doesn't need to know that. Ever._' "So do your worst," he taunted, smile wide and the challenge in his eyes bolder than he had ever dared to level at his commander before. But Lydecker didn't rail at his boldness…instead there was _sympathy _in his eyes and uneasy in his gestures.

Looking away from Alec, Lydecker exhaled, ran his hands nervously over his lips. Knew that, once he told Alec the truth, there would be no turning back, no retreating, no covering up what he had done. Like his agreement to assist Max in her plans to destroy Manticore, this was yet another all-or-nothing scenario. Meeting Alec's eyes again, seeing the _life_ in them, remembering how _proud_ he had always been of the boy, he knew that he had to follow through on his plans. Regardless of what Alec might think about him, he did know how to protect his family.

Lydecker's silence grated against Alec's remaining nerves, made him abandon his faux relaxed pose and sit up, wait for his former commander to speak. But he wasn't prepared for Lydecker's announcement.

"One of Manticore's smaller operations, tasked with "improving" the X series solders, is now being funded and run by a private corporation," Lydecker revealed, watched Alec stiffen at the news that some of Manticore's operations were back in production. "But they haven't gotten the results they wanted. They have heightened some areas of the X series soldiers but discipline has been an issue. Once "initiated" the soldiers perform their tasks, yes, but they kill indiscriminately, seem to relish the taking of lives. Will eliminate their target but will also take out any innocents they come across."

"This is fascinating but what makes you think that I'm the key to perfecting your line of assassin soldiers?" Alec challenged, hated that there might be a list of people that he had killed that he didn't even know about. That he hadn't been trying to atone for their deaths. That more truly innocent lives might be laid at his door other than Rachel's.

Lydecker's words came out thick and low. "You're not the key, Alec."

Alec tilted his head in confusion, knew that he should be putting things together, making sense of this but couldn't. Before he could even formulate a question, Lydecker gave him his answer, an answer that made him feel violently ill.

Holding Alec's gaze, Lydecker said, "They don't believe that the answers lie with the clones. Instead, they think they are coded in the original DNA. And since Max destroyed the original DNA samples and it was Manticore's practice to kill all the DNA donors …they sought for a pure source of the DNA once used. And a few months ago, they found out that one of the DNA donors was still alive."

'_Dean!_' Alec's panicked mind screamed, barely able to comprehend how quickly the tables had turned on him, how one second it was only his life in jeopardy and now it was his older brother's life that was hanging in the balance. That, though he had begun to accept the real possibility that he could become that cold blooded assassin under more of Manticore's further tutoring, he would never, ever allow his brothers to be subjected to Manticore's heartless, sadistic experimentations. "Over my dead body," he growled, didn't realize it was aloud even as he moved, pounced forward, swept his leg out, nearly moved the building's support beam as he yanked on the chain.

Too late Lydecker realized that he had misjudged Alec's skills, that he had not properly taken into account how badly the transgenic would react to his news, knew that Alec was going to exceed the radius of the chain. Trying to scramble backwards, he crashed to the ground when Alec's leg swept his feet from under him. And then his ankle was gripped and he was dragged across the floor, soon found a hand crushing his windpipe and an enraged Alec snarling down at him.

"Where are my brothers?" Alec demanded, slammed Lydecker's head against the cement floor as his fingers tightened indiscriminately around his former commander's throat. His gut telling him that, if Dean was in trouble, Sam was too. That to get to Dean, they would have had to go through Sam. And they had already made their move on Dean, he was certain of it. Lydecker never offered a threat he didn't carry out, didn't bluff, ever, or telegraphed a move that wasn't already 98% already in motion.

Lydecker tried to pry loose the hand that strangled him but his strength was feeble against the transgenic's. Read unchecked fear and desperation, hatred and pain in 494s eyes and it told him that causing his death? Alec would relish it. And it wasn't about payback for all the pain and torture and training he had inflicted on the young clone for twenty years. No, it would solely be reprisal for his transgression of threatening his DNA donor, his brother, his family. Winning Alec's trust was going to be even harder for him than winning Max's had been. '_That's because Alec knows you better than Max ever did. Has ten years more intel on you, remembers that it was you who sent him out to kill his first target. Who punished him for his failures.'_

"Tell me where they are or I'll snap your neck, just like you taught me to," Alec hissed, remembering the first man he had killed in that fashion, thought it poetic justice if Lydecker would be his last.

"Here," Lydecker wheezed out against constricting pressure, still vainly trying to dislodge Alec's grip.

"They're here?" Alec demanded, giving Lydecker a shake, needing to be reassured that he was being tricked, played.

Oxygen starved, Lydecker simply nodded, hoped the earnestness in his eyes said what words he couldn't.

Loosening his grip, Alec searched Lydecker with his other hand, confiscated a gun and the keys to the cuffs. One handedly, he unlocked the ankle cuff and then he stood up, pulled Lydecker to his feet as if he were a wayward child under his care. "Take me to my brothers," he ordered, cocking the gun and leveling it at Lydecker's skull.

As untenable as his situation seemed, Lydecker knew it would only get worse if he didn't explain things, defend himself while Alec let him alive to do so. "There are some things you have to hear first," he began, hands raised to show himself submissive.

Alec spun Lydecker around, gave him a shove forward. "The only thing I want from you is directions." Tried to quiet the little voice in his head that told him he should hear what Lydecker had to say, to know as much as he could but the apprehension in his gut made thinking of anything but getting to his brothers nearly impossible.

"Only one of your brothers is here, Alec," Lydecker bluntly announced, had to get that dismal fact out before Alec's hope soared too high.

That statement cut through Alec, had him spinning Lydecker around and slamming him against the nearest support beam. His forearm pinned against Lydecker's throat and the gun jammed into the man's gut, he glared down at Lydecker, "Where is my other brother? Is he safe?" He didn't even bother to ask which of his brothers Lydecker had been referring to, knew it didn't matter because, with his family, they were a package deal.

If one of them was in danger, they were all in danger. And if one was taken from them? Then they would all be lost. Dean's close call with the hell hounds had shown him that. Had proven that, yes, there was weakness in loving someone as strongly as he loved his brothers, as they loved him, but there was also strength in that bond as well. Strength that was unpredictable, beat the greatest of odds, that, even now, gave him the conviction to vow that, no matter what he had to do, he would be reunited with his brothers, both of them.

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TBC

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Have a great day! And for those in the US, happy Memorial Day! I want to send out a thank you for the service of all our soldiers around the world and throughout our history!

Cheryl W.

6


	11. Chapter 11: What Matters Most pt 3

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

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Chapter 11 – What Matters Most – part 3

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Shutting out the voices around him, Dean, instead, concentrated on the mantra running through his head: '_Alec needs you. Alec needs you. Alec needs you_.' Made his younger brother his focus because, if he thought about Sam….He couldn't think about Sam, about Sam being _gone_. That was down a road he had traveled before and he knew where it led: to suicide, an emotional suicide if not a physical one.

'_No, I have Alec. I need to survive this and get through to Alec, get us both away from these mercenary sadists_.' Because, the men surrounding him in the van? They didn't care that they had murdered his brother, had stolen away the only person who had truly known him down deep and had _still_ loved him, had hurt the person that was _his_ to protect. The hands that slammed him down onto the van floor, pinned him there, coiled pressure bandages around his neck and arm with proficient brutality. The "Hope we didn't go through all this and he bleeds out before we get him back to base," showcased no concern about his survival. And when the van engine clicked off, there was no care exhibited by the pair of hands that dragged him from the van, juggled him in their hold and then practically dropped him onto a waiting gurney.

So it was a surprise when a barked command of "Careful!" came from a sandy haired man climbing out of a dark suburban. He noted the scowl on the man's fifty year old features, authority emanating from his short but militarily fit stature.

Then the gurney was in motion, his view being exchanged from blue skies to a white ceiling. Numbly he tracked the light fixtures that went by overhead, wondered if he was in a military hospital ward or a military barracks. The sparse and sterile surroundings told him it had to be one or the other. Then, like a mirage, a group of kids no more than twelve years old filed past him on the right, all clad in t-shirts and…camouflage pants.

'_Manticore,_' Dean theorized, felt icy dread pool in his gut at the thought that, no matter how improbable, Manticore had survived, was still operating. '_And they have Alec. Did something to him, something that made him attack me, attack Sam.' _His panic for Alec's fate toxically mixed with his grief at the memory of Sam. In his mind's eyes, he could see Sam's shocked expression as he entered their motel room, saw that his brothers were locked in a mortal struggle. But Sam hadn't hesitated, had willingly fought against another member of their family to protect him. Had taken his side, just like he once had against their possessed father. '_Sam saved my life only to lose his own. And that's my fault. My. Fault.!'_

Then rubber gloved hands picked him up and transferred him to a freezing cold metal table. His body quaked at the coldness, external and internal._ 'Friggin blood loss,' _he diagnosed because, if anyone knew the effects of an extreme loss of blood, he did. The hell hounds had seen to that. Faces obscured by scrub hats and surgical masks hovered over him a moment, the eyes calculating and callous. There was no conversation, seemed like a room where voices would fade into the walls before they would carry.

When the bandages on his neck and arm were replaced by painful, merciless pressure, he bit back a groan of agony, determined to not give them the satisfaction of knowing that they were hurting him. Though he expected the prick of a needle for an IV line in his hand, the needle instead sank into his neck, pierced his ravaged skin.

Without being given anything to take the edge off his pain, his neck wound was stitched together, sending his agony soaring to a whole new level. This brutality he bore stoically too, didn't try to fight them or curse them. Internally swore that he would endure anything they dished out because Alec needed him. Because this group, whether they called themselves Manticore or Clones Unlimited, they had already taken one brother away from him, but they weren't going to take Alec from him, too. He wouldn't **let** them.

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Dean woke up, surprised to find that he had fallen asleep, wondered briefly if it had been more a case of losing consciousness. He had been transferred to a bed in a room where he was the only occupant before he allowed himself to close his eyes. Consoled himself with the knowledge that he hadn't faltered in the operating room. A sadistic operating room that would have let even Doc Benton have operating privileges, without question.

Starting to push himself upright, his arm crumbled under him, harshly re-depositing him back onto the thin mattress, proving that the damage that the garrote wire had inflicted on him was not repaired. Changing tactics, he propped himself on his elbows, cursed as the room spun and spots clouded his vision as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, sat up. He nearly toppled off the bed as the world went white around him.

'_Ok, so that's a no to the effects of the blood loss being over. This new health plan sucks so far_,' he internally groused, resting his head in his hands as he leaned over, elbows on his knees. His head snapped up when his room door opened.

He couldn't fight the disappointment that squeezed his heart. It wasn't Alec standing in the doorway. Instead a man in his mid forties with distinguished grey hair, mustache and goatee stood there, his silk shirt and cashmere pants costing more than Dean had ever spent on his wardrobe, his entire lifespan. Hatred boiled in Dean because, unerringly, he knew that, whatever had happened today, it was at the order of this man.

Straightening his posture on the bed, he watched dispassionately as the man entered the room, nodded to a dark uniform clad guard at the door. The guard promptly closed the door and locked it. Evidently they weren't taking any chances that he would attempt an escape.

But escape wasn't on Dean's mind. His only thought was to find Alec. Meeting the man's inspecting gaze in silence, he forced himself to be patient. Had learned a long time ago that hurling obscenities, revealing his emotions, it always made matters worse and he couldn't afford that right now. Things were bad enough. His eyebrows rose in surprise as the man spoke, revealing a hint of a German accent.

"You're not an easy man to track down, Dean Winchester."

Though it wasn't good, in any sense of the word, that this man knew his last name, his real one, Dean didn't let his unease show. "My father would be disappointed in me if I was."

The well dressed man nodded. "My intelligence has your father as being deceased. Seems like you have proven yourself the better soldier than he."

Gritting his teeth at the insult to his father, Dean forced himself to think about the family he had left, about saving that family. "Where's Alec?" he asked evenly, didn't show the raging terror but he involuntarily stopped breathing waiting for an answer.

"You mean 494. I assure you that he is unharmed," the man pledged, stepping closer to Dean, forcing the injured man to tilt his head up to continue to meet his eyes. "And he will remain that way if you cooperate with us."

Though he hadn't missed the man's threat, relief zinged through Dean. '_Alec is alright_.' "Cooperate how?" he demanded, his emotions already shifting to dread. Knew that, anyone associated with Manticore, either with its continuation or its extinction, weren't loaded down with a lot of scruples on how they got to their bottom line.

When the other man smiled coldly, Dean knew this man might have been blessed with even less of a conscience than White had been. It stirred doubt in the man's earlier declaration about Alec's well being.

"As you might know, Manticore's main site was cauterized due to a media leak. That unfortunate event nearly turned the cloning revolution into ash, would have if not for this small installation." The man held out his hands to indicate the facility Dean found himself in. "We are all that remain of that process. Yes, Manticore's …" he seemed to struggle for the right word, found it and said it with disgust, "_follies_ are still scampering around, loose, but they are a poor representation for the genius of the process. A process we are close to perfecting, righting the wrongs."

"Perfecting?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised as if he challenged that notion. "The creation of human life? Wow, you're not too full of yourself, are you?"

"Is it pride when you speak the truth?" The man drawled, a twinkle in his eyes at the idea of his genius being questioned by someone like Dean Winchester. "We have had success where Manticore only experienced failure."

"But only _some _success," Dean contradicted, eyes boldly meeting his captor's. Felt a spike of satisfaction as the man's cocky disposition darkened at his correction.

"Yes, _some_ success but not complete success, you are right. But with your assistance, that oversight can be rectified. You might not be aware of this, but you are the last of your kind, Dean."

"This isn't the first time I've heard that," Dean smart alecked back, hoping to conceal the way his heart was speeding up as the man grew closer to his point. A point that Dean was sure he wouldn't like, at all.

"Be that as it may, it is the truth this time. You are the last of Manticore's DNA donors. The rest and their samples, alas, are no more."

"Meaning there are all dead," Dean bluntly retorted, irked at the man's proper speech pattern, at the gratingly elegant tone of his German accent even as he talked about murder, hinted at sadistic experiments on woman and children. "Wow, the reunion's going to be sparse this year."

The man actually chuckled at his comeback. "Very," he drily agreed. "Since it seems you are a reasonable man, one who does what needs doing without trepidation, let us speak frankly. What do you call him..Alec?" Dean nodded curtly. "_Alec_ is so very close to being the perfect soldier but, as you might have seen, his blood thirstiness, once instigated, can not be tempered simply by a command. It makes him…._useless _unless this defect can be corrected."

Dean's chest tightened at the word 'useless'. He didn't need to have the other man spell out what happened to useless things in his world. "Corrected how?"

"To follow orders, of course. Without hesitation. His orders were to simply subdue you today. Instead, he was intent on killing you, would have to, had my men not saved you," the man stated, pointing to the bandage around Dean's neck spotted with blood.

"Saved me?" Dean bitterly repeated. "They _killed_ my brother!"

The man gave a tilt of his head. "Sorry. As your true brother's DNA was not used in any of Manticore's clones, he was not needed. Was …_useless_," he drawled, purposefully made the correlation between Sam's fate and the one that might await Alec if he proved himself similarly worthless to them.

Fury overloaded Dean's every sensor, gave him a rush of adrenaline strong enough to enable him to surge from the bed, to attack the coldhearted man who dared to call Sam useless, to threaten to kill the only brother he had left. Though he got in a right cross to the man's jaw, he was too weak to keep himself upright, to not stumble forward even as the man stumbled back under his blow. He crashed to his knees at the man's feet even as a panicked call of "Sir? Boris?" came from the opening door and the guard charged toward him. Looking to the guard, he braced himself for the blow..that never came. His well dressed visitor, Boris, stepped in the guard's path, protected him.

"No," the man, Boris, ordered in a tone that demanded obedience without question. "This man is not to be mistreated." The guard nodded, took a step back but his hand remained resting on the baton he carried. Then Boris turned around, crouched down to be eye level with Dean. "Your bother's life is in your hands, Dean. Help us make him into what he was created to be."

"What's that?" Dean asked, voice raspy with his pain and exhaustion as he knelt on the ground, faced the man that held all the cards.

"The best assassin money can buy," Boris announced proudly.

It was an impossible choice, nearly as impossible as vowing to kill Sam to save him from going darkside. Was the choice to let Alec be killed or to save him only so he could be turned into a mindless, heartless, killer. '_But he would be an alive one_,' ran through Dean's head. In that moment he knew how Alec had made the decision to let him maybe go to hell rather than kill him with the knife. Understood how Alec had deemed having a slim chance of getting him back from hell was a thousand times better than losing him forever to death, with no chance of reversing it.

"What do you want me to do?" Dean resignedly asked, knew that he would do anything to keep Alec alive, regardless of what this man turned Alec into. Was clinging desperately to the hope that, whatever was done to Alec, it could one day be undone. That he would get back one of his brothers in time.

"It will be painful at times," Boris said, not with warning but almost with relish, the excitement of his victory shining in his eyes.

"Of course it will be," Dean sallied back but as Boris went to stand up, his hand shot out, wrapped around the man's wrist. "There's just one small stipulation before I become your lab rat," Dean stated because his pact with the crossroad deal maker had at least taught him to be a better negotiator. "I want to see my brother. And that is non negotiable."

There was a flash of irritation in the German man's cool gaze but he nodded sternly. "I thought as much. I have sent someone to bring him to you."

Releasing his captor's wrist, Dean watched as Boris stood up.

"You are a good brother, Dean Winchester," Boris drawled and Dean didn't know if the man's words were an insult or a compliment.

Then Boris stepped out of the room and the door closed, leaving him all alone again.

'_If I was a good brother Sam wouldn't be __dead__, Alec wouldn't have gotten __captured__ and I would have a better way of saving my little brother than helping some outfit turn him into a friggin' Terminator model_.'

Sitting on the floor, he dejectedly hung his head until his chin rested on his chest. '_I'm sorry Sam, you don't know how sorry I am. And I know you would want me to save Alec…I just wish I knew a better way to do that. I miss you Sam, I miss you so badly little brother I can hardly breathe.'_

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Lydecker had answered Alec's questions and Alec wished to God that he hadn't. That the Colonel had stopped there, hadn't told him the rest.

Alec skittered away from the door because leaving, facing his brother was the last thing he could contemplate right then. He didn't even bother keeping the gun on Lydecker. His former commander was the least of his problems. And besides, Lydecker could probably sense that, in his present frame of mind, he wouldn't have any qualms about shooting him if he made an ill advised move. Because, for as much as he knew he was at fault for everything that had happened, Alec held Lydecker responsible too, on so many levels.

Pacing, Alec rubbed his forehead with a hand that trembled even as he bit his lip, all his panicky tells coming out to play at once. He couldn't even form words, couldn't offer up any protests…or even any threats. Felt only shame and terror. He had thought White taking Dean was the worst his past could inflict on his family but this…this was so much worse. And this, it was his fault, had happened because Dean and Sam had trusted him, had done something worse than that. They had loved him. Had loved him enough to sacrifice their lives for him, to allow him to nearly kill them.

Lydecker's voice was soft, almost gentle as he broke the five minute silence. "Your brother, he will want to see you, Alec."

Alec's head snapped up to Lydecker, hatred and despair brimming in his eyes. "Why? Why would he want to see me?"

Lydecker sighed, commiserated with the kid's anguish. "Because he needs you right now."

The statement gutted Alec because it was true, might turn out to be even truer if he wasted more time. Pointing the gun again on Lydecker, he growled, "Don't think for a minute that I'm going to forget your part in all of this. Or that it was you who got Dean messed up with Manticore in the first place!"

"Like I said, I didn't know how this was going to play out. And whether you believe me or not, I'm on your side, Alec," Lydecker repeated his earlier statement, didn't quite know how to prove himself to Alec more than his actions already had.

Alec roughly grabbed Lydecker by the scruff of the neck, spun him around and shoved him toward the door. "I don't believe you because if you were on my side, things wouldn't have gotten this far!" Following Lydecker out of the room, certain that the Colonel wasn't suicidal enough to try to do anything but take him to his brother, Alec was plagued with doubt, didn't honestly know how he could prove to his brother that he could be trusted.

As if he had to convince himself before he could convince his brother, he began to repeat a mantra in his head. '_I wouldn't hurt Sam or Dean. I wouldn't hurt my brothers. Not ever.' _But a cruelproviso followed on its heels. '_Not in my right mind I wouldn't_.' And that was when Alec thought he might just get physically sick.

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Dean had half crawled, half stumbled back to the bed, sat there, hands clasped around the edge of the bed's steel frame, waiting. Didn't know if he could keep himself together if Alec came in the door wearing the expression he had in the motel, if his only living family member didn't recognize him, or worst, no longer returned his affection. Alec was all he had left, was the only reason he wasn't collapsed in a corner letting his grief eat away at him until there was nothing left.

He had survived his father's death for Sam. He would survive Sam's death for Alec, because Alec needed him, because Sam would expect it of him. He was already trying to convince himself that, no matter how much they had messed with Alec, his brother was still in there, that their connection might seem buried but it wasn't gone, not in the sense Sam was gone.

Bowing his head, he curled his hand in his hair until the grip was painful, until there was something else to think about than Sam, than the concerned look Sam had given him when he was being forced out of the motel room. His little brother had been concerned for him when…. "No," he lowly choked out, shutting down the memories. "Concentrate on Alec." For the second time, the door to the room swung open and he slowly raised his head, prayed that there was still some mercy in the world for him.

"Alec," Dean breathed out in relief and joy, pushing himself to his feet. Was thanking God at just the _sight_ of Alec stepping into the room, alive, at the infallible proof that he wasn't alone, that one of his brothers was still with him.

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Sam knew he should be dead. It wasn't a reassuring thought but it was the only truth he knew.

He remembered Alec attacking Dean, his ineffectual attempt to knock Alec out and then the commando units busting into the middle of their family squabble. They had tranquilized Alec and taken Dean, left him alone, behind. Well, not quite alone but in the company of two rifle toting commandoes. And then things got hazy. He could still feel the remnants of the panic he had felt as he watched his brothers being taken away from him and then….then the flash of a needle, a pain as it was plunged into his flesh and then there was just images, smells, sensations. Images of men hovering over him, the smell of smoke drawling into his lungs and the sensation of being dragged across the room, of heat.

Certain that he had been left there to die, he had suddenly been grateful that his brothers had been pulled from the room, wouldn't be dying with him. Like he had been in Cold Oaks, he was relieved that, if he was dying, at least his brother, his brothers would live. That was what Dean didn't understand, hadn't taken into account. That he would choose to die rather than let Dean die. That if it came down to a choice, he would always choose for Dean to live. And in those last seconds of consciousness, he had realized that he had made a decision that day, in that very room, which of his brothers he would save and which he would…not.

Then there was nothing.

Until now. Until he woke up, registered that he was alive and even unhurt and felt terror sour his stomach. Running his hands around the chain on his ankle, he contemplated breaking his ankle to get free, like a wild animal. Was frantic to find out where Dean was, if his brother was Ok, wanted proof that his brother hadn't bled to death. Needed to know if Alec was….Alec. If Alec would ever be his brother again. Because the person that could hurt Dean like that? Could seek to kill Dean? It wasn't his brother, couldn't be his brother. No, Alec, the stranger that he had adopted into his heart, called a brother, he wouldn't heartlessly kill someone that loved him as fiercely as Dean did. '_No, Alec wouldn't be cruel enough to take Dean away from me_.'

Sam shivered as his terror climbed, knew that, if Alec had stolen Dean from him, if Dean was dead, then, no matter the circumstances or Alec's excuses, he would never be able to forgive Alec. Not ever. Because some transgressions, even brotherhood couldn't absolve.

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Shoving the gun into the waistband of the sweatpants that he had woken up in, Alec nodded for Lydecker to unlock the door, didn't want to barge in there to see his brother and be brandishing a weapon. Not after…He shook his head, was still trying to figure out the words to use, the proof he could offer up. But then his time was up, Lydecker had the door unlocked, was stepping through, had left the doorway open for him to enter.

Inhaling, he forced himself to step through the delivery door of another section of the warehouse that Lydecker had made his own personal base. Then he saw his brother. Vaguely noted that he was in the same position he had been in when Lydecker made his appearance: sitting on the floor, leg chained to a support beam….offering indignation and hatred to his visitor.

All of Alec's practiced words caught in his throat under the onslaught of his brother's enraged condemnation. Enraged condemnation that was directed at him.

Coming to his feet, Sam readily dismissed the presence of the sandy haired man that had first entered the room. Found himself, instead, transfixed at the sight of his brother seemingly unharmed, calm, unrepentant. Like it was nothing that he had attacked him early, had attacked _Dean_.

For a moment, Sam could do nothing but stand there, immobile, focused on his brother, on Alec who had tried his best to sever Dean's neck, to kill their brother. Then it was as if a match had been dropped into a pool of gasoline, igniting the fury in his gut into a white hot fireball.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	12. Chapter 12: What Matters Most pt 4

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

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Chapter 12 – What Matters Most – part 4

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For a moment, Sam could do nothing but stand there, immobile, focused on his brother, on Alec who had tried his best to sever Dean's neck, to kill their brother. Then it was as if a match had been dropped into a pool of gasoline, igniting the fury in his gut into a white hot fireball.

"I trusted you! Dean trusted you!" Sam shouted, coming forward, finger pointed at Alec like the sight of a rifle, vaguely aware that the chain around his ankle wouldn't allow him to reach Alec. '_And maybe that's a good thing_.'

Alec flinched at Sam's words, knew better than his brother what that trust had cost them all. Couldn't fight the boil of hatred he felt for Manticore, that they had used that trust, Sam and Dean's trust in _him_, to hurt his brothers, to ensure that their guard was down, that they didn't fight as hard as they should have because they didn't want to hurt him. "Sam, just let me explain…" '_Explain that your love for me is a vulnerability, that I should have walked away, you should have shoved me away from you a long time ago. That all I can ever be is a danger to you, to anyone I care about_.'

But Sam cut him off, his voice bitter, harsh, lethal. "Explain why you're more loyal to your old commander, Lydecker, than to Dean and I, who accepted you as a _brother_? Yeah, go ahead," he darkly challenged, breath heaving, feeling cold satisfaction at Alec's surprised expression. "Yes, I know who he is," he bit out, nodding his head toward Lydecker. "I wasn't as willing as Dean to just blindly accept you as family so I did my own research about your time at Manticore. I knew you had some hero worship, some connection with Lydecker but I never saw this coming, you siding with him over us."

The accusation was unfounded and hurtful enough to cut through Alec's guilt, to cause anger to surge to the surface. "I didn't side with him!" he exploded, stepping forward, coming into Sam's personal space.

"Spare me the lies, Alec! Just tell me where Dean is?" At his demand, Sam watched all the color drain from Alec's face, felt his own blood pressure drop to subzero. Quietly, he denied, "No." Shaking his head, he took a step away from Alec, from whatever Alec wasn't telling him. Forcing fury to replace his fear, he threatened, "If he's dead I swear to God..."

"He's alive," Lydecker announced, certainty conveyed in the tone of his voice. Suddenly, he was the focal point in the room. And it was wrong that, out of the two men, he felt the desire to retreat more when Sam Winchester stepped closer to him than Alec.

"Then take me to him," Sam ordered, almost dared Lydecker to deny him that. He wanted to inflict pain on someone…and really didn't want that someone to be Alec, no matter what his brother had done.

Reassured that Winchester had his limitation, due to his bound ankle, Lydecker didn't move his stance, stood his ground as he tried to bring rationale back into the room. "It's not that easy."

Casting off the notion that Lydecker would be any help, Sam returned his focus to Alec. "You want to prove yourself, then take me to my brother." He could have stopped there but he didn't, couldn't help throwing out the next words, though he knew they were petty and mean. "My real brother." He found it cruelly rewarding when Alec recoiled.

Sam's words were meant to hurt him, Alec knew that and they did. More than he would have even guessed. When he found enough breath to speak, his words were quiet, resigned. "He's not here. He's with someone you met earlier."

"Yeah and who's that?"

Alec inhaled, couldn't believe things were going this way, that Manticore had done this…again. That they had found a way to screw up everything good that he had in his life. "My clone. You know, the psychopath wearing my face who nearly killed you and Dean."

It was a crazy explanation, ludicrous, straight out of a sci-fi B movie marathon. '_And about right for our lives,_' Sam sourly thought but didn't voice the small grain of almost credence he felt at Alec's words. "Clone? Like Ben?" he asked, forced disbelief and censure into his tone, would not be conned, not by Alec and his hero, couldn't afford to be if Dean's life was at stake.

Always defensive of his children, even the damaged ones, Lydecker spoke up, "But more flawed and more twisted under their conditioning than Ben ever was."

"Conditioning, whose conditioning?" Sam asked, eyes on Lydecker before moving to Alec.

'_Let it up to Sam to always know the right questions to ask_,' Alec thought with dread, was ashamed that, his answer, when he managed it, came out choked. "Manticore." He tried to instill more strength in his next words. "Manticore has Dean." But speaking the words, it only spiked his fears higher, made them somehow true, accepted.

Sam went cold at Alec's statement, at the implications, at the fear he could read in his brother's eyes. Panic and rage returned in full force and it radiated outward in the deadly stillness that he adopted. "Why does Manticore want Dean?" the question level, cold, menacing in its flatness.

Again Lydecker took lead. "He's the only DNA donor that is still alive, that Manticore didn't kill. The group that has your brother is a branch of Manticore, was tasked with special programs. They want to turn the clones into mindless robots who kill at a single command and they believe that the key to achieving that goal lies in the original DNA source. That if they study that source, find a way to manipulate him, to change the DNA strain, then they can create an injection that they can give to the clones."

Alec was listening as raptly as Sam, found that Lydecker had added something to his story this go around. "Manipulate Dean? How?" he demanded, hand reaching out, snagging Lydecker's jacket, jerking the man to face him, to answer his question.

But Sam was still trying to find his way through the maze, to know what to believe and who to trust. "So I'm supposed to believe your clone garroted Dean." Alec's eyes flew to him. When Alec let go of Lydecker, took a step toward him, Sam raised his hand, as if he could hold him off. "How do I know that they haven't already been successful in turning you into a weapon? That being willing to kill your own brothers wasn't just a test of how well it worked?" It was terrifying, that Alec might not be in control of himself, ever again. That their _brother_ could turn out to be the deadliest weapon that anyone had ever devised against them.

But Winchesters, they were raised to not shirk the hard questions, to face the worst of truths. So Sam coldly said, "You're not dealing with someone that's duped easily. I've come up against evil things wearing my brother's face." Watching Alec's jaw jump at the implications, he wanted to give Alec an out but couldn't, wouldn't. "I wanted to believe you were possessed or were a shapeshifter…was anything but you."

"It wasn't me, Sam, I swear that," Alec implored, stepping forward slowly until Sam's raised hand pressed against his chest. "You know me, Sam."

Sam shook his head. "I don't know you," hating that tears were welling in his eyes, that Dean was somewhere without him and Alec..Alec was here and he couldn't trust him. That he couldn't trust his own brother, not after what he had happened in that motel room.

Alec froze, felt torn from the inside out at Sam's disassociation with him, his distrust. Sam was practically disowning him. '_I won't allow that. I wouldn't let Manticore take my brothers away from me!' _Meeting Sam's hurt and conflicted gaze, Alec softly asked, "You really think I could do it, you really think I could murder you or Dean in cold blood? That I wouldn't _fight_ against any order to do that?"

But even as Alec said the words, believed them, White's words replayed in his head. 'You expect me to believe you would turn against your own kind?' He could almost hear the smugness in White's tone echoing through the warehouse he was standing in right then.

Alec sickly recalled what he had cockily replied. _"_Try me_." _Hefelt renewed shame rise up in him. '_Why should Sam think I wouldn't turn on him and Dean? I've done it before, betrayed the people I'm supposed to care about, that are family to me.'_

At hearing the need in Alec's tone, at feeling his brother's pain, Sam found he wasn't immune to either sign of distress. Had been a big brother long enough, had been Dean's little brother forever to know that, one thing big brothers did was to use everything in their power to ease any pain their little brothers were in. '_Even if they were maybe undeserving of that kindness._' And he knew he was speaking about himself as much as he was about Alec. Knew that Dean had forgiven him many transgressions, one in particular came bitterly to mind.

"Alec, I know what it's like to not be in control. I …I shot Dean with rocksalt would have killed him with his own gun…" Sam gently divulged, found he wanted Alec to know he wasn't alone, that he understood being forced to do something, to hurt someone you never would under normal circumstances. '_But when has anything ever been normal in my family_.'

The confession stole Alec's comeback away, had him stammering, "What? You shot Dean?"

Sam shifted nervously on his feet under Alec's disapproval. "Yeah but …I wasn't in control. That's my whole point."

Brow furrowing, Lydecker couldn't believe the conversation he was hearing. "Wait, you shot your brother, tried to kill him?" the question holding its own disbelief and tinge of outrage as he looked at Sam in a new light, began to see where all the problems with the Dean's clones. "This might explain a lot of psychotic tendencies that developed in the clones from Dean's DNA. If the genetic line is corrupted by …" he was theorizing, mind already making adjustments, excuses, devising new uses for the DNA strain embedded in Alec.

At the slight to Dean, to their family's mental state, Sam turned to Lydecker, snapped, "Shut up!" found another voice chorusing with his own, Alec's.

Instantly Lydecker's mouth clamped shut, reading, in both men's eyes, a clear threat if he dared to continue to malign their brother or their blood line. Raising his hands in surrender, he took a few steps back, gave the brothers some more privacy to hash out the wonders and curses of genetic advances.

Under a curtain of his bangs, Sam slid his eyes to Alec, felt something re-forge between them at their joint defense of Dean, of their family. Alec stood there, watching him, waiting for him as still as stone, but his eyes… they begged him to trust him, revealed his pain …and his panic. Were ….all Alec, all his brother. Alec's next words left no doubt in Sam that Alec was under no one's control right then but his own.

"Alright, you don't trust me and I get that, Sam. I do," Alec calmly accepted, though it hurt like heck, Sam's misgivings about him, about what he was capable of…and not capable of. "But meanwhile Manticore has Dean and I'm not leaving him there!" he stated, unable to bear the thought of Dean there, being treated like he once had been treated…maybe even worse. "So we can do this together or apart. You can call Bobby, get some other hunters together to help you, but I'm not sitting on my hands while some sadistic scientists treat Dean like a lab rat."

"Like they treated you?" Sam gently asked, had seen the fear surface in Alec's eyes a time or two when he revealed something dark about his time at Manticore. He knew he had hit the mark when Alec paled and his hands fisted at his side.

"Or worse," Alec darkly predicted, needed Sam to see that they didn't have time for doubt, for distance between them, not if they wanted to save Dean before . . . '_Before Manticore is done with him, discards him like they did so many "defective" x series soldiers who were just kids_.'

Sam's jaw clenched at Alec's pessimistic statement but he nodded his head, understood what it was like to fear the worst and to utterly refuse to accept that outcome. "Alright, so Manticore has Dean and Dean thinks the clone with him is you," he said firmly, allowing no doubt to color his words, to diminish the growing belief that Dean might be with a copy of their brother but he wasn't. Seeing the way Alec responded to his show of renewed faith, the way some of the tension leaked out of his brother and the panic in his eyes abated a little, Sam felt guilty that his faith wasn't 100% genuine, that there was a niggling doubt in the back of his mind.

In other circumstances, Alec would have hugged Sam for the faith he was showing in him, might have still if anger and fear and guilt weren't swirling in him, all centered around Dean, where Dean was. Then the person who had had his own part to play in that outcome intruded on his moment with his brother.

"And Dean thinks you're dead," Lydecker bluntly declared, facing Sam as he again joined the planning committee of three.

Again the brothers turned to him and spoke in outraged unison, "What?"

Fighting the urge to recoil, he instead met Alec's eyes, knew that his former soldier would understand how operations were carried out. "My orders were to kill both of you. And since I only have a few loyal men at my disposal, definitely not enough to countermand the orders, I staged your deaths. Manticore has no idea that either one of you is alive."

"At least Dean thinks you're alive," Sam stated, eyes on Alec, relieved that Dean didn't think they were both dead. Because, the last time Dean had lost him, had been the last of their family standing, he had done something rash, foolish, suicidal, self sacrificing. He had made the crossroads deal, had bartered his life, his soul away to resurrect him, to save him. A shiver coursed through him at the thought of a repeat, of Dean being that lost again.

"You act like that's good news!" Alec exploded, incredulously staring down his brother. "They'll use me….my clone, as leverage against Dean. Will realize that I'm…that _he's_ Dean's weakness. They'll exploit how Dean feels about me for their own agenda." Then, as if the decision was clear, was made, he declared, "I'm getting him out of there. Now," was already stalking for the door.

Stepping into Alec's path, Lydecker met his former soldier's irate gaze boldly. "Maybe you don't know how badly Max's assault on Manticore turned out. Her whole team died, she was dying, only survived because Zach sacrificed himself to save her, because Manticore deemed that she could still be a valuable asset to them. Is that how you want this to end too? One or both of you dead, Dean stuck at Manticore, until they harvest everything useful from him."

"We're not leaving him there," Alec growled, didn't care about odds, or assault plans or playing it safe. '_Dean isn't safe…why should I be_.'

Dropping his commanding tone to adopt a fatherly rumble, Lydecker eased, "I'm not saying we're leaving him there. For long." Seeing the protest in the younger man, he forged ahead. "We have to plan this out, be patient."

"If I have it right, you planned Max's assault. Why would I put either of my brothers' lives in your hands?" Alec dangerously demanded, leaning closer, his eyes boring into Lydecker's.

Lydecker sighed. "Because you have no choice. Because I saved both of you."

"And you let Dean get captured," Sam accused, stepping to Alec's side, forming a united front against Manticore's once most loyal son.

"Boris is an overly cautious and determined man when he has an objective. There was no way I could get between him and what he wanted."

"Boris?" Alec repeated the name. "I don't remember him from Manticore."

"You wouldn't," Lydecker replied briskly, dislike coloring the two words. "He kept to the shadows, was heading this special project even before he left Germany. I didn't even have clearance to be briefed on this project."

Sam couldn't keep quiet, didn't care about clearance or special projects or military protocol, just hated this Boris on general principle, hated more that Dean was what he "wanted." "But now you're part of the project so you can sneak Dean out," the words more a threatening statement than an inquiry.

Shaking his head, Lydecker faced Sam. "That's as impossible as an outside assault. They have tight security inside: cameras, motion sensors, audio mics everywhere, not to mention guard checkpoints. They have learned from Manticore's shortsightedness in security. No, we make our move when they take your brother to another facility for one of the tests."

"Tests? What kind of tests?" Sam asked, watching Alec's features pale at even the word.

"When will they take him for this test?" Alec spat, trying to shut down his emotions, to not let his mind conjure up the type of tests Dean would be subjected to, the pain he would endure.

"Two weeks," Lydecker supplied matter-of-factly.

"No way," Alec hissed, hands fisted at his side when they wanted to slam Lydecker against a wall, choke him for thinking he would wait two weeks. "No way am I letting Dean with them that long."

"They need him alive, Alec," Lydecker placated but knew the futility of his actions when he saw the look in Alec's eyes.

"There are worse things than dying and Manticore showed me most of them."

Pulling off the kid gloves, Lydecker roughly grabbed Alec by the shoulders, bluntly asked, "Is losing both of your brothers worse than dying, huh? Because that is exactly how things will end up if you rush into this, if you react emotionally instead of rationally."

"So you want me to be a cold, unemotional robot like that clone?"

But it was Sam who answered Alec instead of Lydecker. "No, I want you to be my brother who will do whatever he has to do to get our brother back. Even if it takes something you and Dean have in short supply: patience."

A sad smirk found its way onto Alec's features but didn't lighten the darkness harbored in his eyes. "Sam, what they might do to him…" he began, his voice shaking at the mental list he could tally.

Reaching out a hand, Sam squeezed Alec's shoulder, looked his brother solidly in the eyes and promised, "Dean can take whatever they dish out, Alec. Especially if he thinks he needs to fix you, that he's the only one that can save you. He wouldn't give up on you, Alec. Not anymore than he gave up on me."

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"Alec," Dean breathed out in relief and joy, pushing himself to his feet. Was thanking God at just the _sight_ of Alec stepping into the room, alive, at the infallible proof that he wasn't alone, that one of his brothers was still with him.

He tried not to take it personally that Alec eyed him coldly, that his brother didn't come to him, instead kept to the wall across the small expansion as the door was closed and locked. Feeling his throat dry up, he swallowed, was at a loss of words at the silence Alec was treating him to.

"Are you going to try and kill me again, because that…would be awkward," he forced himself to say lightly, to emit a low bark of what was supposed to be laughter. But when he had asked that question of Sam in the asylum, he had known the answer by the look in Sam's eyes. Here he wasn't so sure of Alec's reply.

No smile graced Alec's features. Instead Alec leaned back against the wall but there was no familiar slouch to the stance. Alec seemed like an animal ready to pounce once it lulled its prey into a sense of safety.

Foregoing the false levity, Dean stood taller, met Alec's dark eyes head on. "Whatever they've done to you, I know it's not your fault, Alec. I don't blame you. Not at all."

A sardonic twist emerged on Alec's lips. "You don't blame me?" his brother's voice was harsh and full of disgust instead of being hopeful and filled with relief.

But Dean didn't back down, wouldn't give up on Alec, no matter how long it took. "No," he firmly assured. "I know that sometimes we're forced to do things we don't want to. That sometimes …there are things stronger than we are, stronger than what we feel for each other."

"Feel?" Alec snorted, a cruelty in the smile he suddenly sported.

Dean hated that he nearly flinched at Alec's brimming disgust, that he wasn't able to see through Alec's conditioning, to sense his brother under the hatred filled eyes and outward revulsion. That, the person that stood before him, felt like a stranger. But worse than that, felt like an enemy, felt…evil.

Determined to shake off his faulty doubts, Dean took a step toward Alec, was surprised when Alec matched his gesture, took a step toward him. It brought them only a few feet apart in the small room, toe to toe, eye to eye. "You're still my brother, Alec, and nothing is going to change that. Nothing."

Alec bit his lip but it wasn't his usual gesture of nervousness, seemed more a tactic to keep himself locked down.

Dean lifted his hand, slowly, as if he knew Alec might not appreciate rash movements. When he wrapped his hand around the side of his brother's neck, Alec still flinched. He felt his brother's pulse jump under his thumb, as if he were a caged animal, was simply enduring his touch, but just barely.

Alec's words in the motel returned to Dean, cold words, heartless, murderous words.

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"I'm sorry that you're making this so _easy," _Alec had said, right before he coiled the garrote around his throat.

Sam's entreaty of"You don't have to do this, Alec! You can stop yourself," had been met with Alec's almost smug, "That's what no one seems to understand. I don't want to stop myself."

And when Sam had begged him to stop, had said they were family, that Alec could fight this, Alec had laughed darkly, gloated…confessed. "Fight it? I live for this. Only for this."

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Not wavering from Alec's glacier, piercing gaze, Dean felt part of himself, maybe the last part of himself freeze over. The look in Alec's eyes, the hatred, the…evil, it couldn't be accounted for by conditioning, or drugs, or some scientific experiments. It ran too soul deep. Was something inborn, something that wasn't manufactured.

And it wasn't something that could be molded or morphed into something virtuous, something good, probably not even with the greatest strength of love.

Sliding his hand free of Alec's flesh, watching as the tension in Alec visibly lessened at the absence of his touch, Dean stared at Alec, as if he had just appeared before him, was an enigma to him. When he spoke, though he asked a question, there was no anticipation at receiving an answer, was instead an underlying sense of dread. "So, are you Ben?"

Because, whoever was standing in front of him, it wasn't his brother, wasn't Alec. Could never be capable of compassion, or loyalty or love. Would never know how to make him smile like Alec could. Wouldn't care if he opened the stitches on his neck and bled out right there. Could never even conceive what it was like to love anyone, let alone to love them enough to be willing to risk dying to save them. To fight off government super agents, ghosts, Lilith and hell hounds to save him.

The Alec impersonator smiled, and this time it was real pleasure that sparked in his eyes. He leaned close to Dean, whispered as if this was to be between them, this conversation. "They don't give names to their weapons. My designation is 492."

Dean's jaw locked together but he stoically nodded at the revelation. Another friggin' clone of him, a murderous, broken one this time.

"Honestly, I was starting to wonder if they had added all my IQ artificially," 492 drawled, glad to be freed of his role playing, but equally aware that blame could be directed at him for the Ordinary seeing through the deception.

Dean gave a dark smirk. "Insulted by my clone. Just great. You know, there is a lot to be said about a healthy measure of self worth."

"I know my worth," 492 hissed angrily, voice rising. Consciously, he lowered his voice again when he spoke next. "It's yours that is limited."

"Really?" Dean challenged. "Word is if they can't figure out how to put a leash on you, you're not worth a thing to them. Guess you'll be put down like the animal you are," he insulted, couldn't think of this ….this sham of a copy of Alec as anything short of a rabid creature.

Lightening fast, 492 clamped a hand around Dean's neck, squeezed, and leaned close until they were practically nose to nose. "If you weren't the only true source of my DNA, I would kill you." Then he tossed the man backwards, enjoyed that the man crumbled to his knees, was grasping for breath, hand coiled around his throat.

"So family does matter to you?" Dean taunted, voice thrashed but he held his head up, met 492's merciless gaze unblinkingly. But he almost shuddered at the arctic smile that settled over the clone's face, fought to not move as the clone bent down, became eye level with him.

"I would have had no trouble killing my "brothers". But 452 killed 493 and Lydecker, he stole the pleasure of killing 494 from me too."

Dean's heart stuttered as did his breath. "You're lying." Found himself begging for the clone to be lying, for one of his brothers to be alive, for Alec to be Ok. But the sick pleasure that emanated from the clone told him to expect the worst.

Pulling a glass tube from the pocket of his pants, 492 held it up, tilted it down to the left then down to the right, making something light brown encased in the cylinder shift from side to side. Dropping his eyes from the tube to alight on Dean, 492 said, "Some brothers would give you the shirt off their backs. Guess Alec was willing to give the skin off his back for you." Seeing the confusion written clearly on the Ordinary's face, he relished the opportunity to explain, in brutal details. "Well, Alec gave that. And he gave a whole lot more. He gave his life. For you."

Sitting the tube on the floor, 492 gave it a gentle push with his finger so it rolled to Dean.

Stopping the tube's roll with hands that shook, Dean picked it up and saw that what was trapped inside the glass was a bar code, a bar code genetically encoded onto human flesh.

"Some of us call it the proof of purchase," 492 happily supplied. "In case you don't recognize it, that's Alec's barcode. Lydecker disposed of the rest of your brother's body but I thought you might want that as a….what do they call it? A keepsake?"

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TBC

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Thanks so much for reading and for the wonderful reviews I received.

And don't worry, I'm not planning on dragging out the two week timeframe for Dean's rescue. These brothers have got to get reunited and soon for my peace of mind!

Have a great evening!

Cheryl W.


	13. Chapter 13: What Matters Most pt 5

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

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Chapter 13 – What Matters Most – part 5

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After everything, it was so little to be left with.

A barcode, a stripe of flesh, a mocking, tangible proof of what Alec had been, both Manticore soldier and his flesh and blood brother.

A remembered last glance with Sam that had conveyed a thousand emotions but none of them had been goodbye, had prepared him to hear the gun report, to see the flames mercilessly steal another member of his family away from him.

It was just a twist of fate, Manticore eliminating the last traces of Sam with fire, but it was sickly fitting. Fire had coiled its searing grip around his mother in the only true home he would ever know and hadn't relinquished her, even in death. It had been fire that had turned his father's once seemingly invincible frame into ashes that blew across the desolate strip of land that he and Sam had erected a furtive funeral pyre, as if mourning him was a thing of disgrace. He couldn't help wonder if they had burned Alec's body too, if Alec had been enough of a Winchester to share their intertwined curse of fire.

Dean knew grief, it had walked with him for over twenty four years, like a lingering presence. He had gotten on intimate terms with it again when his father had died, when Sam had. But each time there had been something to cling to: Dad and Sam, then just Sam and then just the slim hope that it wasn't too late, that he could bring Sam back.

But this time, this time there was nothing to cling to, no one, no hope, wasn't even a body to fixate on, to emotionally cling to, was just this…cruel certainty: His brothers, they were gone. And the pain…it was intolerable, stole away his breath as mercilessly as it did his will to live.

He hadn't even looked up when two guards rushed into the room, dragged the clone away. He had sat there, on his knees, holding the only part of his youngest brother that was left to bury…or burn.

He didn't know how long he sat there, when his tears had started to silently fall.

As the maelstrom of his grief grew, he realized that he didn't have to shelter anyone this time. There was no grieving Sam or Bobby, no one who needed him to be strong. There weren't even any spectators to his unquenchable despair. No brothers or adopted father, no one to conceal the agony of being shredded apart, molecule by molecule, leaving him with a gaping hole in his heart where his brothers had always resided.

He was solitary in his grief, last man standing.

But he wasn't standing, was bowed, broken, had lost what had kept him together even when hell was on his horizon. The knowledge that Sam was alive, that he had saved him, that Alec was there, that his brothers, they would out live him.

It felt wrong to wish to be in the circles of hell, to wish his brothers had failed to save him, that their love for him had been more halfhearted, too feeble to win a victory for him. Because, unknowingly, that victory, it had cost Sam and Alec their lives. Had been a trade none of them saw coming: His life for theirs.

'_They would be alive right now, both of them, if I hadn't tried to squirm out of my deal, if I had been man enough to pay the price that was owed,_' he bitterly recognized, squeezed the small cylinder so tightly in his hand that the glass nearly cracked.

There would be no do-overs. A Trickster wasn't there, willing to rewind the clock. There was little chance that he could make it to a crossroad, let alone haggle another deal with Lilith's successor. And no real hope that he would wake up, discover that this was all a nightmare, a lingering hallucination from his crossroad pact.

Unbidden, Rufus's words came back to him, the man's voice sounding even harsher in his memory than it did in person.

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"I know ain't no pea shooter gonna save you?" Rufus had bluntly told him when he had been on the trial for Bella, for the Colt, for hope.

"What makes you so sure?" Dean had tried to nonchalantly protest but he looked away from the man's eyes, the stark knowledge that was in the dark depths of the man's unblinking stare.

"Cause that's the job, kid. Even if you manage to scrap out of this one, there's just gonna be something else down the road. Folks like us, there aren't any happy ending. We all got it coming."

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He hated that Rufus had been right, on all accounts, that the hunter's words were proving almost prophetic. A weapon hadn't save him from the pit, his brothers' did. They had wielded their love for him like a weapon, a weapon that was far more powerful than the Colt or the Knife combined. And yeah, he had "scrapped" out of his deal but the "something else down the road", he had never thought it would be this, would be the loss of **both** of his brothers.

'_I welched on my deal and now Sam's dead and so is Alec. They both paid the cost of my cowardice._' He didn't even fight to stifle the sob that broke free. He had no pride left to lose. Had lost everything. There was nothing left for him to fight for.

'_Except to honor their memories_,' slipped through the desolation of his grief.

Dragging in a steadying breath, he tilted his head back, felt the scream building in his chest. He couldn't live on memories, wasn't built that way. He had tried to live on his mother's memories, to be brave like he thought she would have wanted him to be. But he had lost so many memories of her along the way, had lost so much of himself trying to cling to them. It had been only his Dad and Sam's presence, their love, that kept him sane, together, functioning, if only barely. He had no hope that he could survive alone, with nothing but an ensemble of beloved ghosts to keep him company, ghosts of all the people he had loved and lost, had failed to save, of all the people that had died because of him, _for him_.

'_And how many more people will die if Boris finds a way to use my cursed blood? People that Alec loved: _ _Max, Joshua, the others at TC_.' Because he knew in his gut that Boris's concoction, it was being designed to use on them, on all the transgenics that defied the mold Manticore had made them into, who dared to love, to think, to fight against being nothing more than weapons. And he understood that better than anyone, being assigned the role of weapon. Of feeling that you were only appreciated to the extent of how useful you made yourself.

He had done everything he could to ensure that Sam never knew how that felt, had hurt at the knowledge that he hadn't spared Alec that indoctrination. That his youngest brother had been brainwashed into believing he was only a weapon, to doubt that he had a soul, the he could be valued for simply existing, could be worthy of love.

Suddenly he felt something besides his grief, felt sick revulsion at the thought that he would be unwillingly aiding Boris deprave more transgenics, mislead them into believing the lie that their only use was as soldiers, twist them into soulless monsters like the clone. Like 492, who wore Alec's face but wasn't in possession of a even a sliver of his brother's heart. That everything Alec had fought for, that everyone at TC had fought for, could be undermined by one friggin' mad scientist who knew who to turn the cursed Winchester blood flowing through his veins into a weapon.

Suddenly, Dean knew that, his pain and his hatred, they would have to be enough to lend him the strength to fight one final battle. He would make sure his brothers' deaths were not in vain, that the people that Alec had cared for, Max and Josh and the others at TC, that they were safe from Boris' experiment.

Everything Boris asked of him? He would deny it to him. Would fight every step of the way, would do whatever he had to do to guarantee that an injection was never created, that he wasn't used as a pawn against the transgenics.

Solemnly he vowed that, his DNA, _Alec's DNA_, it wouldn't end up destroying the first family Alec had ever known. '_I'll die first before I let that happen, Alec. I promise_.'

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Reaching out a hand, Sam squeezed Alec's shoulder, looked his brother solidly in the eyes and promised, "Dean can take whatever they dish out, Alec. Especially if he thinks he needs to fix you, that he's the only one that can save you. He wouldn't give up on you, Alec. Not anymore than he gave up on me."

Without preamble, the shrill ring of a cell phone echoing too loudly in the warehouse caught the three men's attention.

Knowing that Alec and Sam were watching his every move like he was their enemy instead of their ally, Lydecker raised his hands and slowly withdrew his phone. He clicked it on when Alec didn't make a move to snatch it from his grip. "Lydecker."

Lydecker masked his face in indifference as his loyal second in command spoke, "Colonel, Boris has ordered you to his office."

His eyes fixed on Alec, Lydecker calmly asked, "Do you know why?"

"Not officially but I saw 492 being hauled out of Winchester's cell."

Angry frustration surged in Lydecker and he looked away from Alec, knew that his deceptive skills wouldn't hold up under the well trained soldier's scrutiny. "Tell Boris I'm on my way back from the inspection and I'll go directly to his office," he stated and ended the call, determined that his side of the conversation wouldn't give away any clues to Alec and Sam, wouldn't let them know that, his plan for getting their brother free, it was already going south, fast.

Wishing that his enhanced hearing had allowed him to hear both sides of the conversation, Alec demanded of his former commander, "Was that about Dean?" his tone of voice conveying the price for a lie.

"No," Lydecker answered without inflection, knew that, the art of not being caught in a lie was to believe what you were saying was the truth. '_I'm not lying, that call had been more about 492 than Dean_.' "I have to attend a meeting. Now," he stated, reaching into his pocket as he spoke. Handing Alec the key to Sam's ankle manacle, he wasn't surprised that Alec blocked him from heading for the door.

"You are not leaving my sight," Alec vowed, no leeway in his eyes as they bore into Lydecker's.

Stepping as close to Lydecker and his brother that his ankle chain allowed, Sam menacingly stated, "You're going to show us where they're keeping Dean."

Shaking his head, Lydecker refuted, "If they get even a whiff that their location is in danger of exposure, they will cauterize this site." His next words were directed to Alec, "Like they did with the Seattle facility. They proved that they weren't bluffing, would rather it all go up in flames than let someone get their hands on all their work. You were there, saw the place being burned to the ground. They locked the doors, you know. Wanted every last transgenic in the facility to burn to death. So do you think it's worth the risk? To have surveillance on the property, stow away in my car, do searches on the Internet that they can trace, to make them suspicious of an attack, an infiltration?"

In Alec's mind's eye, he could see the flames licking from Manticore's windows, burning through walls and roof, watched as his fellow transgenics ran for their lives. His naïve belief that he was valuable turning to ash before his eyes. A betrayal so deep, so unexpected it still hurt. Purposefully looking away from Lydecker's too knowing gaze, he faced his brother, knew he had to make Sam understand that Manticore, they had no mercy. "If they think their security is at risk, they won't hesitate to torch all the buildings…with everyone inside." '_With Dean inside.'_

"But he said they needed Dean," Sam protested, head jerking toward Lydecker but his eyes never leaving Alec's.

"They excel at cutting their losses," Alec bitterly supplied, had come to see everything he had done, had been, that Manticore had been in a new light since that night, since he had found his true family.

Reading the emotions emanating off Alec, Sam knew it was painful for Alec, remembering Manticore's betrayal, facing how he had been duped all those years into thinking he was the good guy. But as much compassion as he felt for Alec, it couldn't overshadow the fear he had for Dean. "So what? We just sit on our hands? Trust the guy who got all this started in the first place?" Because Lydecker would have to answer for that too, for exploiting Dean's vulnerability, for taking his blood and using it like a tablespoon of sugar in a recipe, regardless of how grateful he was for the end result, for Alec. '_Well, one of the end results_,' Sam mentally amended, nearly shivered at the coldness he remembered in the clone's eyes in that motel room. Startled, he realized that he had fully dismissed his misgivings about Alec's part in that scene. Knew in his heart, the Alec with him now, was the real one, was the one that would kill, yes, but to protect him and Dean, would never willingly hurt either of them.

Instead of providing an answer to Sam, Alec swiveled back to Lydecker, took two steps until his breath was hitting the Colonel in the face. "If something…anything happens to Dean before we get him out of there, I will use all the skills you taught me, all the skills my brothers taught me to hunt you down." His voice dropped lower, the lethal promise chilling the very room, "And when I find you, you'll know, first hand, what kind of monster you really created in me."

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Having someone threatening to kill him, it was practically a soldier's objective. And Lydecker, being a soldier practically all his life, had had his fair share of death threats. But Alec's….it was unnerving him like the others had not. It wasn't just a promise of death…it was a promise of pain, lots of it. Pain the likes he didn't know he could bear. Was a vow that, every single drop of pain Dean Winchester suffered, Alec would revisit on him, but ten fold.

Coming back to the conversation at hand, he nodded and entered the office that Boris' subordinate had indicated in time to see Boris backhand 492 across the mouth. "You were ordered to deceive him into believing you were 494," Boris snapped, his anger growing at the transgenics calm acceptance of not only the strike but his displeasure.

"He knew I wasn't 494, sir," 492 barked back, stance ram rod straight, eyes ahead like he had been taught.

With a deadly calmness, Boris drawled, "That's where the deceiving part comes into play. And even if Winchester still had his doubts, we could have coerced him into believing his brother was alive. But not now. Much replied on his cooperation. Cooperation he will no longer offer to us.

"Who needs cooperation when you have force. Whatever you need him to do, I will see he does it," 492 cockily promised, daring to shift his eyes to meet Boris'.

A stillness fell and Boris' smile seemed benign but the glint in his eyes was lethal. "Will you now."

"Sir, yes Sir," 492 replied, either blind to Boris' building anger or too foolish to heed it.

Boris nodded as if in agreement, his voice dropping to almost a gentle whisper, two conspirators engaged in a clandestine meeting, "And what punishment will you threaten him with for disobedience?

492 almost smirked, so proud of himself. "Pain, sir. Unbearable pain."

Boris' hand shot out again, didn't delivere another backhanded blow to the transgenic's cheek but came to rest on 492's shoulder almost companionably. "That is what you do not have the ability to comprehend. We have taken his brothers from him, his family, for a man like Dean Winchester, there is nothing worse we can do to him."

"We can threatened to take his life," 492 rapidly supplied, was secretly relishing the idea of being tasked with that particular threat, hoped he could fulfill it when Winchester was no longer of any use to Boris.

Boris was almost kind as he shot down the transgenic's final suggestion. "Yes but he knows we won't, not until we get what we need from him. And honestly, I'm not convinced he wouldn't welcome death."

492 nearly snorted at the absurd statement. "**No** one welcomes death."

With raised eyebrows, Boris studied his favorite weapon, saw no deception in the young clone's features and felt a shaft of disappointment. Shaking his head, he slid his hand free of 492's shoulder and met the soldier's cool eyes. "If you believe that, I have been too lenient on you." Raising his voice, he beckoned, "Guard?" Instantly a guard slipped into the room, came to stand erect beside his master. His eyes never leaving 492's, Boris ordered, "Take him to psy-ops and tell them to treat him to a level 10 regiment indefinitely." As the clone was escorted out of the room, Boris turned his back on the transgenic, dismissed him as if he were of no consequences and truly, he might be his favorite weapon but he was replaceable, would be replaced if the experiment with Winchester failed. Many transgenics would be terminated if a successful drug regiment couldn't be devised. It was a grim outcome to years of his research, an outcome he had no intensions of allowing to happen.

Having watched the scene in silence, Lydecker almost shivered as 492's eyes had landed on him with hate, as if the clone knew that of his deceptions, of what paths his favoritism for 494 was leading him down. With 492 absent, he stepped toward Boris, needed to know how badly his plans had been effected during the short hours he had been gone, had spent trying to convince Alec and Sam to trust him, which he couldn't really even deem a success yet. "So I take it Winchester knows 494 is dead."

Boris exhaled and then turned to Lydecker. "492 showed Dean 494's bar code. Surprisingly 492 didn't take credit for his death, gave that honor to you," the statement was accompanied by a smile, it was progress of sorts, 492 allowing credit to be bestowed on another.

To Lydecker, 492's "generosity" was poorly timed. '_Great. Dean will never trust me now._' Aloud he said, "So I'm assuming we have to modify our tests."

Contemplatively, Boris rubbed his hand over his beard. "Undoubtedly. There will be no truthful answers to our many questions, no physical endurance tests, no observations of his interaction between 492 and the other transgenics."

"Doesn't leave many tests to gather our data," Lydecker allowed frustration and disappointment to leek in his words. And the emotions, they were real. But so was the fear seeping through his system because, the tests that remained, none of them would be painless. And if Alec found out…he broke off his thoughts as Boris spoke.

"No. No, it does not. I just hope Dean lives long enough for us to get the results we need. I'll send for you when I've decided which test to start with today."

Nodding his head in agreement, Lydecker left Boris'office, his thoughts going a thousand miles an hour…all in the wrong direction. Heading down the hallway, he internally cursed, couldn't believe how badly things were going off track. He wished he could dare tell Dean his brothers were alive, to convince the younger man to go along with whatever Boris asked of him, because if he didn't, he would die before they could put their escape plan into effect. But even as the option came to him, he dismissed it, knew that he couldn't risk trying to tell Dean that, not with all ears and eyes in the facility, real and electronic. Nor could he think of a way to explain to Boris why, contrary to everything they know about Dean, he would be subservient to the people who murdered both of his brothers. '_And I can't tell Alec what's about to happen to his brother either or he'll insist on a suicidal storming of the facility." _

Right then, Lydecker didn't know which part of himself he hated worse: his ego for wanting to be part of the transgenic program again or his heart for not wanting Alec to be killed, or to lose his family.

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Letting Lydecker leave, watching his only tie to Dean disappear out of sight, it had Sam's own words echoing in his head. "Is that what you want me to do Dean, let you go?' He fisted his hand as it rested against the warehouse door, as Lydecker's suburban was no longer in sight. He felt like he had done what Dean had asked him to, was letting him go.

Hearing Sam's breath catch, Alec abandoned his tracking of Lydecker's vehicle out of the warehouse lot, focused instead on his brother. Sam's face looked ready to crumble. And he wanted to say something reassuring, that Dean was going to be OK, that Dean was tough, that Manticore _needed_ him. But the words, they wouldn't come. His own mental barriers were on the verge of collapse, just like Sam's. They had saved Dean. From Hell! How could something like this put all their happiness in jeopardy?

Cursing, Alec spun around, stalked back to the table where Lydecker's intel about their planned escape two week away lay spread out. Leaning over, palms down on the table, he skimmed everything, the maps, the picture of the transportation vehicle Dean would be in, the tally of the number of guards and how they would be armed. None of it did a thing about today, about now. 'It doesn't help Dean, doesn't stop them from doing….' The worst of Manticore's treatments flashed through his memory, memories of agony, so severe, of hopelessness so deep that death…it seemed the most merciful outcome.

'_And they are doing that to Dean_.' He knew that, it would be even worse for Dean because, though they shared DNA, they didn't share the same endurance for pain, the same stamina. For all the Dean Winchester was, he was just an Ordinary human being, was vulnerable. '_What if they forget that, to take that into consideration, his frailty, that he'll die faster than a transgenic_.' The thought caused his hopelessness and fear to spike radically higher. Furiously, he swept the intel off the table and stalked across the warehouse floor, hands running through his hair.

"Alec," Sam gently entreated but when Alec spun around, his face was contorted with anguish.

"Don't tell me that everything will be OK, that Dean is strong, that they won't kill him. Just…don't," his voice shook on the last word, making it a plea instead of a demand. Knew he was refuted the very words he might have used moments ago to comfort Sam. But there was no comfort, not now, not when things were as screwed up as this.

Fighting his own desire to break down, Sam clenched his jaw and looked away, didn't know the words to say, what encouragement he could offer to himself, let alone Alec. '_Dean always found a way to comfort me, always. Whether it was with some stupid joke or making fun of me or patting me on the back or …promising me that everything would be alright, that he would __make__ it alright.'_ Tears burned at the memories of how many times Dean had been there for him, hadn't left him, had kept his promise, had made everything alright for him, by any means necessary, by even sacrificing everything he had, his own happiness to see it accomplished. '_And he would want me to do that for Alec, make things better_.'

"Dean would have believed you right off the bat," Sam said, seemingly out of the blue, snagging Alec's full, if confused, attention. "When you said it wasn't you in the motel," he clarified, remembered that, no matter how ludicrous what he had told Dean, his brother always believed him, had believed him about the mystery spot, the time loop, had believed him every single time, over a hundred times and his brother's faith in him, it hadn't wavered, not once. That only formed more of a lump in his throat, made his next words more hoarse.

"He would have even forgiven you if what happened in the motel was really all you." '_Like he forgave me for being possessed, is even willing to forgive me for being evil, for the powers I have.' "_No matter how scared I was to tell him something, he always stayed at my side, never…judged me…or disowned me. No matter how…how…" '_evil, disgusting, terrifying my new powers were: the visions, the nightmares, the telekinesis'. _He swallowed, didn't know how to sugar coat any of that, never had to for Dean. He almost startled when Alec's hand came to rest on his shoulder, when his brother was suddenly in front of him, switching the tables on him by offering _him_ comfort.

"Hey, it's not like we don't have to put up with a lot from him too," Alec lightly joked, felt vindicated when Sam eyes twinkled behind the sheen. "The greasy spoons he makes us eat at, the continuous bang your head music he listens to, the way he never wants to let us drive the Impala, his refusal to listen to a word of sense from either of us."

Sam's smile grew at each instance Alec provided, knew that, he had an ally in Alec against the crazy, awesome, endearing things that were all Dean. That made you want to either hug Dean or head slap him.

Seeing the lightening in Sam's demeanor, Alec gave his brother's shoulder another squeeze and then he walked back to the table, bent down and began retrieving all the intel he had knocked on the floor. Panicking, being frustrated and angry, letting the fear get the best of him, it wasn't doing Dean any good either. He wasn't surprised when a tall figure crouched down beside him, began to help him pick up the pieces, not only of the intel but his soul.

"Just because Manticore scheduled the test for two weeks out doesn't mean they can't change their minds" Sam's nonsequitur had Alec's head snapping toward his brother. "That we can't change their minds," Sam drawled, the beginnings of a cocksure smile pulling onto his features, an expression that Alec soon mirrored.

Because, if the Winchesters knew one thing, it was to not accept the givens that the rest of the world did, to believe that, if there was an answer, a solution, they would find it…or create it. Letting fate dictate your path? That rule was for the rest of the world, not them, especially not when it came to losing one of their own.

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Vaguely, Dean knew that he wasn't walking of his own accord, that he was being dragged down the corridors, couldn't even find the strength to raise his head, barely bothered to breathe, his voice raw from his own screams. Knew that he had traded true Hell for hell on earth, that Manticore's methods, they would probably be admired even in Lilith's hometown. The agony when the laser hit his eye, it wasn't something he had been able to brace himself against, hadn't been like the hell hounds tearing him apart had been something worse, something that hurt soul deep. Something meant to tear him apart, literally by his DNA strand, to uncoil it, to shatter him.

But they were at a disadvantage though because they had already shattered him, had already decimated what was left of his soul, had done the worst they could and the rest of this, it was just like performing CPR on a brain dead patient. Useless, pointless, even pathetically naïve.

They slid food into his room hours after the clone had left and he had summarily thrown the food, the tray and the plastic cup of water across the room. It was a small defiance but it would escalate into something bothersome for them, him not eating, getting dehydrated. And he knew, remembered the conversation around him in the "operating room", that they didn't want to give him any drugs, medicate him in any way, didn't want their "test results" skewed by introducing any foreign medications into his blood stream. Wanted the all natural Dean Winchester. The trouble was, he was going to make sure they didn't have him long, that they would either let him die of starvation and dehydration in a few days or be forced to tamper with their own results. And Dean prayed they stayed with option one, was even more hopeful that was their decision as he was unceremoniously dropped back onto the floor of his cell after his very first taste of the hospitality that Alec had probably endured in Psy-Ops.

He hated Mantirore to the root of his soul for that, for the agony they had subjected Alec to all those years, for treating his brother to such cruelty. Hated himself for not finding Alec sooner, for allowing Manticore to kill his brother, both of them. For being such a useless, pathetic example of a big brother, for proving the same aptitude for being Sam's, Alec's brother that he had for being John Winchester's son. Failure on both accounts, all accounts.

Cheek pressed against the cool cell floor, he wondered how foolish his father would feel if he could see him now, to know that he had suffered Hell for him, the guy who had let Sam get killed anyway. The guy who vowed to save Sam or kill him and ended up doing both, saving Sam from death nearly a year ago and getting him killed yesterday. '_You should have been more specific Dad_.' And he almost laughed, allowed his hysteria to break free. But knew that would be a victory for Boris, if he let himself go, tuned out the real world because it hurt too badly. 'Nothing you don't deserve, even this physical pain, you deserve to feel it all. Every second of it.'

Unable to disagree, Dean slid his hands under his body and pushed himself off the ground, staggered to his feet. He swayed a moment until he got his bearing, until he could stand up without wavering. Titling his head back, he shouted "That all you got!" knew that he was literally in a fish bowl, that there were cameras and microphones throughout the room, catching his every breath, reading his every expression.

Viewing the feedback from the five camera screens at Boris' side, Lydecker couldn't help but admire Dean Winchester's stamina, his pain endurance level, his strength of will, his ability to rail in the face of agony and weakness and hopelessness. '_I couldn't have picked a better DNA donor than Dean,'_ came to him, knew that Alec would strangle him for the thought even as it was the source of him even existing. '_I never contemplated this, how strange the situation would be if our DNA donors lived, if they adopted their clones into their lives, their family, if they knew how it all began. But leave it up to Alec to do it, to endear himself to the one person that should hate him, feel as if he robbed him of something. I'm not sure whose more amazing, Alec, Dean or maybe Sam for accepting it all in stride, gaining a new brother, the way his real brother had been used, the risk that came with all that they were, separately and collectively."_

Boris chuckled at Dean's goad. "I do admire him. He was an exemplary choice for clone DNA. So you knew his father?"

Boris' complement soured in his gut but he didn't let it carry to his expression or his next words. "Yes. We met in Vietnam. I knew he had ….retained the military way of life with his sons," he said, uncertain how to explain the path John Winchester had taken, had dragged his sons upon.

Boris nodded. "It shows," he agreed with admiration, focusing again on Dean Winchester. "The training he has had, the way he endures pain…and loss. It's very impressive."

Lydecker's jaw jumped at the man's cold-heartedness, was hard pressed to remember that, not long ago, he too had viewed pain in the same way, a fascination, a means to an end, something to admire. "It also means that your time table will have to be altered," he stated, hid his satisfaction and relief. "If he refuses to eat, to drink, and you choose not to medicate him, he won't last more than ninety six hours."

Boris seemed contemplative as he watched Dean, heard the man shout, "Time's a wasting. Thought you had soldiers to remake in your image!" Boris snorted at the insult he knew was directed at him, that Winchester was calling him a cold hearted mindless weapon. "He will last longer than that. His will to live even now is stronger than any of our other subjects."

Daring to encroach on his superior's personal space, Lydecker spoke lower, so his words did not reach the other video tech in the room. "If we don't get the testing done before his body starts to shut down, all our data could be corrupt, could taint the vaccination we create. We could end up destroying the clones we mean to improve."

Boris' eyes darkened as they bore into Lydeckers as if in effrontery that the underling was telling him what to do but then they lighten. He had sought out Michael Donald Lydecker for a reason, for his expertise on the transgenics, specifically on the DNA that Dean Winchester had so generously supplied to Manticore. It would be foolhardy to not let the man do the job he had hired him for. "Ok, point taken. We will move the test in the Houston facility up to Friday. Make the arrangement."

"Four days, but …" At Boris' steely eyed reprimand, Lydecker broke off, knew that there would be no changing Boris's plans. Wished that Boris had not concluded what he had, that Dean's only prerequisite for the Houston test was having a pulse, that it didn't matter if his body was dying, wouldn't even matter if Boris began the regiment of drug testing he had slated for a few weeks into Dean's stay with them. None of it would matter and after the Houston test…there would be no after for Dean Winchester. He would join his DNA donor predecessors. Would be just another murder added to Manticore's already impressive tally.

Drawn back to the screens featuring Dean, Lydecker fought the urge to enter that cell, to tell Dean to hang on, to tell him that he couldn't quit, that if he did, he would be killing more than himself. '_Four lives are in your hands, Dean: your own, your brothers' and mine, because if you die, Alec will surely kill me_.'

And right then, he knew he couldn't face Alec, that the kid would see it in his eyes, the real possibility that he was going to lose his brother, that their rescue plan, it wasn't going to be in time. That Dean Winchester, the guy who had the heart to love Alec, the guts to fight against even Manticore's manipulations, the determination to take whatever steps necessary so he wouldn't be a pawn, just might not come back to his brothers.

And a stray thought came to him, '_John you raised one heck of a son, a son to be proud of …two of them in fact.'_ And he was proud of Alec too, knew that he had been a mentor for Alec yes, but Dean, Sam, they had taught Alec what it was like to be loved, to have a family, to be human. It was the outcome for his deception that he never contemplated, that what he would do in secret, would do against John's wishes, Dean's, would create this chain reaction, would give the world not just an incredible soldier but a man with a good heart, who would do all he could to save people. And one look in Alec's eyes, in Dean's and Sam's and he knew that they wouldn't undo what he had done, not for anything in the world. Not even now when it was about to cost them everything.

And Lydecker would never comprehend that he had done more than give Dean another younger brother to protect and Sam a younger brother to love. That he had given them the means to keep their family together when it had been on the precipice of destruction, when Hell itself had come knocking, demanding the life, the soul of the center of Sam's world, of Alec's. If he had, he might have realized that the brothers had faced worst odds, had worked in tighter time frames, had done more miraculously things than survive when others could not. That cutting things down to the wire, that was just standard operating procedures for them.

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TBC

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Thanks so much for reading and for the words of encouragement on last chapter!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	14. Chapter 14: What Matters Most pt 6

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

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Chapter 14 – What Matters Most – part 6

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Sam showed up first. Was suddenly ….there, crouched down by the sterile operating table Dean was strapped to. Dean bit harder into his lip, fought back more than a scream of agony as another needle sank into his spinal cord, refused to utter his brother's name, believe that Sam was really there, could be touched, wasn't gone. Knew that it was his dying body, deteriorating mind playing tricks on him, giving him what he wanted to see.

But it was the kindest thing, to see Sam's face, even if it was a hallucination. He startled when Sam spoke.

"You can't give up, Dean. You can't, alright, because I'm coming to get you out of here," steel as much as plead in the beloved rumble of his brother's voice, in the eyes that met his. "How many times do I have to tell you that you can't leave, that I won't let you leave until you get it through that fat head of yours. We're a team, a family, you, Alec, me. And you don't give up on family, Dean. You don't. Not ever. Don't start now."

Then Sam vanished.

"Sam?" Dean gasped out, even as he knew it would break the last stronghold he had on sanity, to call out for his brother, for someone who wasn't there, who was dead. Someone who wasn't coming to get him…but he was going to join Sam, soon. Wasn't giving up on his family, was saving it. One last time.

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Alec froze, had almost missed the presence of Sam in the room, kneeling, head bowed, maybe in prayer. Knew he shouldn't intrude but he couldn't move, didn't want to be far from Sam …or have Sam far from him, needed the physical connection so badly it was pathetic.

His heart tripped in his chest as Sam's quiet, entreaty of words reached him across the warehouse room.

"….We're a team, a family, you, Alec, me. And you don't give up on family, Dean. You don't. Not ever. Don't start now." The last words an order, a demand, a threat.

Raising his head, Sam opened his eyes, took in a shaky breath of air…and felt a familiar presence behind him, didn't need to turn around to know it was Alec, was the only family he had with him. For the moment. Clearing his throat, he explained, "One of the other psychic kids, he could project his thoughts across miles…states even," he clarified, though he hated to think of Dean that far away from him. Looking down to his hands resting in his lap, he opened his palm to reveal the Impala keys, the only thing of Dean's he had, the only thing left to him. _'Don't think like that! You'll get him back, you and Alec will get him back.'_

Accepting Sam's explanation as an invitation to stay, Alec came to Sam's side, crouched down beside his brother. It hurt when Sam raised his head and he saw the red rimmed eyes that weren't half as hopeful as Sam's words had been. Gently he said, phrasing his words carefully, "You said your telekinesis kicked in, out of the blue, just in time to save Dean. I wouldn't be surprised if you have some latent abilities that …adrenaline might unleash," purposefully avoided the use of the word fear, though it was obvious that was the trigger, Sam fearing he was going to lose Dean.

"I didn't…" Sam swallowed, didn't want to admit this, to what it might mean. "…_feel _him."

Knowing that if they gave into despair, it would weaken them, would hamper their ability to save Dean, Alec, with herculean effort, pulled on a smirk. "You trying to _feel_ up Dean, can't wait to tell Dean that." Felt victorious when Sam gave a snort, albeit a shattered one. "And if he was mad that I put an electronic leash on him last time, I can't imagine how he's going to react to you going all chick flick _in his head. _He's going to say you left behind cooties."

There was mirth in Sam's voice as he agreed. "Yeah, yeah he will."

But when Alec shifted, was on the verge of standing up, Sam's hand came to rest on his leg, stilling him without a word, without force, did it with the strength of their bond. Eyes meeting Sam's, Alec waited, would wait as long as it took until Sam marshaled together whatever words he wanted to say. But he wasn't expecting the ones that Sam, with his head bowed, softly said.

"Dean died before."

Alec's breath, his heart, his mind, they all stopped at Sam's statement, prayed for a disclaimer to follow. But it didn't.

"A…a Trickster he …he killed Dean. Killed him and then I woke up and Dean was there, alive, unhurt like it was just a bad dream I had. But it wasn't a dream. Would happen again and again, Dean dying, me waking up to him there only to ….to lose him again. The time loop happened for months until…" Sam broke off, didn't want to relive that Wednesday, of holding Dean in his arms as he bled out. Dean had been only three steps away from the Impala, from a cache of weapons, had only been out of his sight for _two minutes_. "…Dean stayed dead."

Alec was trying to process what Sam told him, to fit it into the past he knew, the present he was certain of and the probability of what a Trickster could do. "I don't remember…you never told me…how…"

Sam shook his head, as lost as Alec, his eyes never touching upon Alec. "I tried calling you during the loop…but you never answered, couldn't even get your voice mail…or Bobby's. It was like I was cut off, that Dean and I were separate from the rest of the world."

Quietly Alec asked the unanswered question, "And after ..after the time loop?"

Sam inhaled, should have known that Alec would ask the one question he hadn't wanted to answer. Summoning the guts to look at Alec, he faced the prospect of Alec's anger head on. "I didn't call you. I figured you were better off without me."

It was betrayal and love, protection and rejection all tangled together.

Shoving Sam's hand off his leg, Alec surged to his feet, took a recoiling step away from Sam, found his stance shaky as his emotions threatened to tear him apart. "Dean died and you…you didn't tell me." He didn't know if there could ever be a betrayal more painful than this one, if anything could prove that Sam didn't think of him as family more than that exclusion.

Having dropped his gaze from Alec's, Sam focused on the Impala keys in his hands. "I…I couldn't."

"Guess I finally know how I rank with you," Alec bit out and curtly spun around, headed for the doorway, contemplating hotwiring a car in the lot outside and finding Lydecker, putting a gun to his head until he took him to Dean. Sam's quiet words halted his headlong pace.

"It was my fault," Sam admitted, voice raw. "The Trickster did it because of me. I couldn't make that better for you, Alec. That I let Dean be taken away from you, from the both of us. And I…I thought it was better, you thinking we were out there, somewhere, than knowing…"

"The truth," Alec bitterly filled in.

"Yes," Sam returned with resolve, knew about hopelessness, about revenge, about grief. Everything about where it took them, took Winchesters. Just to another funeral pyre.

Alec swung around, stalked back to Sam and shoved his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. Standing over his downed brother, he snarled, "That wasn't your decision to make! I'm part of this family, whether you like it or not!"

"I did it because we are family, because I wanted to protect you! So that the Trickster didn't realize I had another weak spot, go after you! He used Bobby, you know. Could change forms and cause visions and he had _Bobby_ call me, had _Bobby_ standing right in front of me telling me that I was breaking his heart, that I should back down from killing someone just to save Dean. And I…I …" Sam couldn't fight the memories anymore, felt the first tear slide down into his hair.

Unable to bear Sam's pain, Alec shook his head, looked away a moment and then sank to the ground, sat there Indian style and reached out a hand to Sam.

Seeing not only the offer of Alec's hand, but of his understanding, maybe even his forgiveness, Sam slid his hand in Alec's, allowed his _brother_ to pull him into a upright position on the concrete warehouse floor. For a moment, his eyes met Alec's levelly, and then he revealed what he had never told another living soul. "I was pretty sure…almost sure…heck, I don't know, maybe I just wanted Bobby to be the Trickster. I…I killed Bobby, Alec. I wanted revenge so badly that I …I didn't worry about the small chance that it really was Bobby and I killed him."

"But it wasn't Bobby, was a …a vision, a mind trick," Alec insisted, wanted Sam to remember the true outcome.

"It might not have been! I would have killed Bobby to save Dean, risked his life to get Dean back. You really think being around some callous, insane person like me would have been in your best interest? After Dean…was gone, I …I lost it, man. I was my Dad, but worse. Dad …for all his focus on revenge, he had compassion. I …I didn't. All I had was my desire for revenge, my …pain."

"If you would have called me, you would have had me, Sam," Alec earnestly vowed, knew that, he would have waged through his grief, his accusation of Sam's guilt for the loss of their brother, would have come through knowing that he loved Sam, belonged at Sam's side. That Dean would have wanted them to be together.

For a moment, Sam's eyes were latched onto Alec, sought to judge the truthfulness of the other man's statement. Felt humbled and warmed to his depths to find no guile in his little brother's declaration. Sam nodded his head in acceptance, knew that, for all the crap thrown at their family, for all the hurt, and guilt and anger that they felt, their love for each other was always stronger.

Relieved that Sam accepted his words as truth, knew that, no matter what, they were sticking together, Alec couldn't help but ask one final question. "So how did you get Dean back?"

"I begged," Sam answered, unashamed of the tactic that had worked, had returned his brother to him. And he knew that, if it had the power to get Dean back now, he would do it all over again. Because pride, it had no place when Dean's life was on the line, when his family was at stake.

SNDASNDASNDASNDASN

In a small hick town fifteen miles from the Manticore facility Lydecker dropped quarters in a pay phone beside an old abandoned gas station and dialed the secure cellphone he had given Alec, felt foolish for being so nervous, for rehearsing his lines like he was in a grade school play. But when Alec's brusque, "Is Dean alright? What tests are they running on him? Could you talk to him?" he knew his nervousness wasn't for nothing. The double edged sword about training someone to lie for a living was that it made that soldier the best human lie detector in the world, more likely to believe you were lying than ever telling the truth. And right now, Lydecker knew he needed to avoid the truth like a virus, a deadly one.

Instead of answering any of Alec's landmine of questions, Lydecker gruffly advised, "Our time table's been moved up to Friday."

"This Friday?" Alec returned, surprise and suspicion in his tone and in the look he shot to Sam who had his head resting against his so he could also hear Lydecker's side of the conversation.

"Yes. I'll contact you again when I have the exact times."

"Why are they moving it up?" Alec demanded sharply, dread coming to him instead of relief at their "good luck". Manticore didn't deviate from their plans easily, would only abort or move up an operation if their success was in jeopardy. And since their objective was to harvest everything useful from his brother before he died or they killed him, Manticore's decision to move up the test, it ripped a black hole into his calm assurance that they would get to Dean in time, before Manticore could inflict too much pain…or irreparable damage.

"Boris is running this show," Lydecker sidestepped the question, knew that Alec was probably already formulating theories on why the test was being done this week instead of nearly a month away.

Recognizing the deflection, Alec inhaled heavily and tightened his grip on the cell phone. "It's Dean, isn't it? They don't think he'll last a month."

Knowing that whatever response he gave would give Alec his answer, Lydecker dropped the phone back onto the cradle, ended the call. Resting his head against the glass of the phone booth, he didn't startle when the phone rang, knew that Alec was persistent, and so perceptive that it had always been difficult forming viable mission situations that would convince the X5 that assassination was the only choice left open to them. "Sorry, kid. It's like the old days, we have to play the hands we're dealt as best we can," he murmured before he turned his back on the ringing phone. Sliding behind the wheel of his truck, he prayed that by Friday he wasn't going to be handing Alec a corpse of his brother.

SNDASNDASNDASNDASNDA

For as tired as Dean was, for as drained of energy as he was, sleep was elusive. The guards had been kind enough to drop him on his cot and that was the sole reason he wasn't on the floor now, waking up staring across the cement ground. Somewhere it registered with his internal clock that it was morning, that the tray of food and glass of water on the floor by his bed was meant to be breakfast.

Sliding his arm forward, it dropped off the cot like it was weighted. It seemed to take all his energy to simply move his hand, to purposefully pull the water glass forward. He watched as the water saturated the food tray, turned the toast into soggy bread, the eggs into sponges, was almost fascinated as the lines of water ran across the floor in multiple directions, as if in mockery of the thousand choices he could have made to undo this, to save Sam and Alec, to save himself.

He started to roll onto his back but agony stilled him, had him gasping out a whimper of breath. '_Your spinal cord being used as a pin cushion, that ring any bells with you_?' he sardonically chastised himself for his forgetfulness. The pain, he remembered that, but what came to him, all through the hours in the room since, was Sam, the sight of Sam, how real his brother's voice had sounded to him. That Sam had almost repeated Dad's parting volley in their last argument before Sam hit the door, went to Stanford: "We're a team, a family. You don't walk out on family." But Dean remembered the rest, the words that Sam could never forget: "If you walk out on us now, don't come back."

And not coming back, not staying? For the first time Dean understood that need, that desire. He didn't want to stay here, wouldn't. Was going to walk out…or crawl to whatever came after this life. Could already feel the way his body was beginning to deteriorate at the absence of food and water, under the onslaught of agony Boris was gleefully dishing out in the guise of scientific discovery.

He didn't even feel dread when he heard the lock on his door click, when the door swung open, a prelude to another day of pain. Welcomed it because it was getting him closer to his goal, was leaving Boris with only a handful of days to use him. He smiled as the man of the hour walked into the room, as Boris' eyes betrayed him by flickering to the ruined food and wasted water and a scowl took up residence on his features.

"I was starting to think you didn't care about me," Dean drawled, eyes tracking up to Boris' even as he remained still on the cot, didn't waste energy trying to pretend moving wouldn't be too much effort. In fact, he wanted Boris to get that message, loud and clear. "So have you turned that deranged serial killer clone of my brother into a lap puppy yet? Does he get the paper and your slippers?" he taunted, knew that whatever Boris hoped to engineer would take time…and hopefully lots of data, data he wasn't going to give him time to get.

Boris' walls weren't strong enough to conceal his raging irritation, his hatred for the man who couldn't see the bigger picture. "You can't fathom what you're a part of, how much of an honor it is, to be chosen, how remarkable it is that your DNA material managed to survive to harvest a clone to adulthood, let alone three of them."

"I'm so proud I'm gonna break down, put a "Proud DNA Donor for Clones" bumper sticker on the Impala. Course you're being kind, not mentioning that two of the clones turned out to be stark raving lunatics who like to kill. Someone once told me that killing was in my blood, guess I should have believed him," Dean bluntly said, remembered Gordon's words, even then he knew there was some truth in them, just didn't know how much…until now.

Boris nodded, pretended that Dean wasn't insulting his life's work, soiling all his advancements with 492. "Yes, it does seem that taking lives, it is an intricate part of your DNA." Walking closer to Dean, he looked down at the man he had come to hate. "Shame it was a part of 494's…I mean _Alec's_ DNA. Early on, he showed great aptitude in the mechanics of murder, was really impressive, actually. But he struggled with the moral quandaries of taking a life. It forced us to use some of the same techniques that we are using on you to try and …._fix _him, make him _useful_. After all, 493 was gone so we had to make due with what we were left with."

Furious at Boris' contempt for Alec, at the cold way the man spoke about hurting Alec, at the truth that his own bloodthirstiness had led Alec to be molded into an assassin, Dean found the strength to push himself upright. But as he sat up, dizziness swamped him, forced him to close his eyes, bow his head and curl his hands around the edge of the bed to keep from toppling off.

Boris stood his ground, wasn't surprised when Dean couldn't rise, knew that malnutrition, dehydration were grievously affecting even Dean Winchester's well-trained body. It was the reason he was there, that his expertly calculated time table was obsolete now. That he could no longer worry about contaminating the findings, had to simply get the data and worry about taking into account the drug's interaction later. Dean had left him no choice but to do a hack job where he preferred precision and rational.

"Do you know what happens to the failures in our world?" Boris posed as if he were talking to a scientific colleague.

"They are held back a grade?" Dean quipped, slowly rising his head to face Boris, fighting down the nausea that surged at his minuscule movement.

"We shoot them, sometimes even while they are chained in their rooms. That's what your defiance will lead to, more transgenics being put down like rabid animals. If you think you're saving them…you're condemning them. If we could get this vaccine perfected, you would be saving transgenic lives."

"Well, not that you put it that way…" Dean sarcastically murmured, a smirk fighting its way onto his exhausted features.

Though he hadn't really expected logic to sway Winchester, Boris still felt disappointment shoot through him. Meeting Dean's willful gaze, he knew that, if his next words didn't change Dean's mind, he was out of options, couldn't stand by and let the man take away everything that he had been working toward for most of his career.

Boris spoke his next words quietly, with sincerity, had learned enough about Dean to know this much about the man. "I think that you loved 494, though he was more a creature of scientific ingenuity than humanity." He noted the flicker of pain in the other man's eyes, knew that he wasn't off his mark. "You see the transgenics as people, think of the transgenics in Terminal City maybe even as friends." Seeing the straightening of Dean's frame, he smiled smugly, "Yes, I know you stayed in Terminal City, you and your brother. That you are doing this to protect them as much as to honor your brother's memory. But you are misguided."

At the word 'misguided', Dean chuckled. It was funny, Boris using such a mild word for him when he had been called so much worse, like insane, crazy, certifiable, evil. "Misguided, really?" he scoffed with a grin. "I'm the misguided one? Mister, I know about monsters. And me helping you create an army of them, it isn't going to happen. I would put a torch to TC myself before I let you corrupt them into something evil."

Boris could see the truth in Dean's eyes, understood what drove the man, felt a stab of jealousy that even half that conviction could not be found in his own reflection. But convictions, morals, values, they came at a cost, a cost he chose not to pay. A cost Dean would pay, ten fold. And he would be the instigator, would stand there and watch as the younger man suffered for all his righteousness, his beliefs, his standards, his vulnerabilities. Would see the proof that you should take what you want in life, not sacrifice your life for what you believed in. That you should kill to gain an advantage, not to right a wrong, and never to show mercy, to end someone's suffering. It was clear to him that Dean would not bend to his will, would not forsake his principles, not even to save his own life, to salvage the lives of the transgenics he would bend to his will or destroy. That Dean believed that death was kinder than some other fates.

"Your beloved TC inhabitants may wish you were there to show them that mercy….but you won't be," Boris concluded. Stepping back, he beckoned for his two guards and doctor to enter the room. He watched as the guards grabbed Dean, latched onto him brutally as if they thought the man had the strength to fight them but he knew that there was only strength in Dean's eyes, none in his body. Dean had fortified all that away and so much more.

Dean didn't struggle against the guards hold or tense at the sight of the needle in the doctor's hand. "So much for going all naturale, huh?" he goaded, knew that this was a good sign, meant that Boris' plans weren't going well, that hopefully the drug would corrupt their experiments. "I guess I should admit this isn't the first time I've experimented. I did this African dream root, that, man, it was funky. I had an argument with myself face to face, literally. And honestly, I'm not sure who won."

There was almost regret in Boris' expression. "I have admired your spirit. It is a shame that you have forced me to resort to such measures. But your refusal to eat, to drink, your unwillingness to honestly answer any of our clinical questions, has left me little option. You will be quite compliant under the drug's effects, and truthful to a fault. Unfortunately, the side effects are extreme. You can expect hallucinations, vivid ones. And in a few days, there will be no reality, will only be the hallucinations until your brain forgets to perform its assigned tasks, like breathing and telling your heart to keep beating."

"Wow, don't know why the drug isn't popular with the college kids," Dean snarked back, unemotionally watched the doctor approach. He didn't try to elude the needle as it sank into his neck nor did he flinch at the bite of pain. When the doctor stepped back and he was released from the guards' hold, he resighted his rebellious gaze on Boris. "It's pathetic really, that you don't get it."

"What do I not get?" Boris questioned amicably, his German accent evident in his marked pronouncement of each word. Eager to engage in conversation with Dean, to get as much insight into the man as he could before it was too late, before the man's mind was beyond reaching.

"That you've done the impossible already, created life. And it's not good enough for you. You actually want to undo the miracle that you have on your hands. Want to break all the things that made Alec, made each transgenic, human and turn them all into machines. You should have started with bolts and belts and electric wires if a machine was what you really wanted to end up with," Dean snapped, wondered how someone so brilliant could be so stupid.

It was the strangest thing, to hear such clear rationale come from someone as irrational as Dean Winchester. To have some…some kid that was on the FBIs Most Wanted list for murder lecture him on miracles, on taking on impossible tasks, on achieving his life's work. "But a machine, it has no instincts and worse still, it has no fear of death, can not be coerced into obedience by that threat."

"Obedience is something earned, by some fear of consequences, yeah, but there also has to be love, be devotion or else, it's just a temporary submission until your back is turned, until the upper hand shifts. You really think you'll ever be able to trust 492?" Dean challenged incredulously. "He may 'yes sir' you with his every breath but, buddy, I've seen into his soul and no chemical mojo is going to temper that evil. You've been dosing yourself too much with your own drugs if you believe that."

"Like you said, we're in the miracle business," Boris boldly returned. "I guess I should thank you for your contributions before you lose all touch with reality. We really owe you for a lot of our advances in making our….machines."

"Bite me," Dean growled and then he leaned back against the wall behind the cot, watched as Boris smirked, bowed his head in thanks and then left the room.

Pulling his feet unto the bed, Dean rested his forehead onto his raised knees, knew that soon, everything would be out of his hands. '_Or out of my head,_' he joked, knew that he and sanity had always been on tenuous terms but soon they would be strangers in the night. His ability to make conscious, defiant decisions, to screw Boris was now a closing window of opportunity. Clenching his fist, he felt the bite of the guard's keys that he had pickpocketed sinking into his palm.

The keys wouldn't open his room door as there was no lock on his side and he was too weak to knock out a guard and make a break for it. Besides Sam and Alec weren't waiting for him on the outside. Yes, he loved Bobby like a father but honestly knew the man was better off without him bringing hell and high water to his front steps every month. The world at large? It wouldn't miss him.

He had to believe that he had done some good …enough that his surrendering now wasn't a failure. That there were enough hunters in the world to make up for his absence. That he wasn't letting anyone down, wasn't disappointing his Dad after all he had sacrificed so he could live. '_You taught us to do whatever was necessary to save people, Dad, to defeat evil. This is the only way I have left to do that, hope you can see that.'_

Raising his head, he resolutely pulled off the bandage on his left arm, ran his fingers over the stitches that held together the flesh that 492's garrote wire had sliced. Decisively, he gripped the key in his hand and viciously dug it into the garrote wire's path, tore out the stitches and reopened the wound. Then he lifted his chin, tore free the bandage around his neck and fingered the stitches there, had to blindly gouge the key into the stitched wound around his throat, felt the warm stickiness of the blood seep into his hands, making the key too slick to keep hold of. He let it drop to the cot as he leaned his head back, felt the severed skin on his throat pull at the movement.

'_I never thought I would take myself out, maybe get myself killed by pulling some crazy stunt during a hunt, but never voluntarily. Course Dad would have never thought he would make a deal with Yellow Eyes in a suicidal pact either. It just goes to show that fate's got a sick sense of humor when it comes to us Winchesters.'_

SNDASNDASNDASNDASN

"You're quiet," Sam gently stated, had worriedly watched Alec's rampage after Lydecker's call, had winced at the curses, had flinched when Alec sent a wrench through a window. But he had intervened when Alec seemed ready to punch a wall, had grabbed Alec, pulled him back against his chest and hissed in his ear "Hey, you need to calm down, right now." Then Alec had gone limp in his grasp, bowed his head, and fell silent except for his ragged breathe. And as terrifying as Alec's energy had been, his stillness, it was even more frightening.

Sitting on a workbench, staring out the window, Alec barely registered Sam was speaking to him. Knew his brother had to say his statement twice before the words reached him through his walls. "What do you want me to say?" he numbly asked, eyes unseeing and his body immobile.

Alec's dead tone chilled Sam, made him step closer, lean against the work bench, study Alec's face. "I know you think the fact that they are moving up the test date means something bad is happening to Dean and I…I trust your judgment, Alec." This earned him Alec's eye contact but he wasn't strong enough to hold the disheartened gaze. Biting his lip he looked to the floor instead of his brother. "But we can't do anything but prepare for Friday and wait. Lydecker didn't give us any other option than that."

"You're putting a lot of trust in a guy that used 8-year old Dean's near death experience as an opportunity to make a science experiment," Alec grumbled, refocusing on the world outside the warehouse window.

Sam shrugged. "Ends up that I like the science experiment. Figure if Lydecker can mix up a pretty awesome little brother he might just have some other redeeming qualities." He sneaked a sideways glance at Alec and smirked when Alec's lips curled up a smidgen. "Besides, I think Lydecker really doesn't want to die. He knows that if Dean…his fate's wrapped up with Dean's. He'll fight for Dean's life as hard as he would for his own survival."

Begrudgingly, Alec nodded in agreement but his voice was low, held little hope. "They wouldn't have moved up the test unless they feared…." He rolled his shoulders, bit his lip, couldn't voice what Manticore might fear, what he feared.

Not oblivious to Alec's dark lines of thought as his own were already traveling that path, Sam tried to be optimistic, as much for Alec as for himself. "They don't know Dean like we do. They think they are the scariest thing Dean's ever come up against," Sam scoffed but Alec's eyes remained without humor.

"Dean thinks you're dead, Sam. I don't think either one of us forgets what he did last time that happened. And him believing I'm alive, messed up by Manticore, it might not be enough. He was….hurt. The clone, you said he tried to garrote him. It might not be a matter of Dean giving up."

"You don't think Lydecker would tell us if Dean were in bad shape physically?"

"I think you're right, that Lydecker knows that if we lose Dean, his life is forfeit too. And that means he's bound to keep stuff from us, isn't likely to admit if Dean isn't doing well," Alec stated, didn't like to think about Dean 'not doing well', but knew he had to be ready to react, couldn't be too squeamish to face the facts, couldn't afford to be caught off guard, to let Sam down.

"Makes me wish for a good old ghost adversary," Sam mumbled.

Alec couldn't help chuckle at Sam's wish. "See, there are advantages to being a hunter rather than a cloned soldier."

Sam smirked and nodded but the humor drained away as the worry returned. "You know Lydecker, Alec. What's your heart telling you, can we trust him?"

SNDASNDASNDASNDASNDA

It was dumb luck that Lydecker chose that moment to slip into the monitoring room, that his worry for Dean's health led him to hunch over the video tech's shoulder and cue up another closer angle of Dean. It took him a moment, a squinted eye inspection of the black and white picture on the monitor before he realized what the dark patch on Dean's clothing was: Blood.

Leaving the monitoring room at a run, Lydecker pelted down the hallway, shoulder checking two guards and three transgenics in his haste. Turning into the right corridor, he yelled to the guard outside Dean's room, "Open the door! Open the door now!" Flustered, the guard obeyed without waiting for the proper protocol, barely had the door open wide enough when the Colonel slid inside.

Cursing, Lydecker sprang to Dean, hands clamping on the young man's bloody throat and wrist, felt small relief that blood still welled under his brutal pressure, an indicator that the man's heart was still beating. So far. "Help! Go get help!" he shouted over his shoulder, heard the scrape of the guard's boots as he left the room at a run.

Alone with Dean, knowing the cameras were in place, that the microphones in the room would pick up all but the softest whispers, he leaned close, spoke in the unconscious man's ear. "They are alive, Sam and Alec. You hear me, Dean. Your brothers are alive. They're going to come for you in two days, kid. Two days. They aren't giving up on you. You can't give up on them. You can't die, kid. For their sakes and mine."

And then he wasn't alone with Dean anymore, two medics and three nurses were there, replacing his hands with pressure bandages and pushing him aside. As they loaded Dean unto a gurney he followed it out the door, stood in the corridor as the kid was taken out of his sight. Unexpectedly, he felt like he had when he had seen Tinga in Max's arms, dead, like he had been betrayed, had undeniable proof that someone had purposefully hurt someone he cared about, that was under his protection.

It was personal now, saving Dean, stopping the experiment, making Boris pay for giving Dean Winchester no way to fight back but to surrender, fully. Running his hand through his hair, he realized too late that his hands were coated in Dean's blood, that he had now smeared it into his hair, onto his forehead, was drenched in it, both literally and figuratively. He wasn't surprised that when he held his bloody hands out, they shook. Fear and rage, the combination was volatile and he wasn't inclined to temper either emotion. Wouldn't deny his fear for Dean any longer, or tolerate Boris' cruel means to an end any more.

'_Boris you're going to give the order for Dean to be moved to the Houston facility for the test today, either by your own free will or at gunpoint. Personally, I'm hoping you give me a reason to put a gun barrel to your temple_.' Then the scientist would know, firsthand, how, once you provoked someone into _wanting_ to kill, the real challenge was getting them to not kill.

He relished the idea of giving Boris over to Alec or Sam, knew that there would be nothing in the world that would stay their hands from taking his life. That there wasn't a drug that could ever be concocted that would temper the rage for revenge when someone you loved was hurt. That love was at the heart of taking a life as much as it was at saving a life, that what you did to protect the ones you loved, to avenge them, it far exceeded what you would do to save yourself.

SNDASNDASNDASNDA

Alec was furious with him, even the hallucination of him was making that clear. "Trying to finish off the clone's handiwork, that's the best you could come up with? Were all your brain cells siphoned off in the DNA strand that was given to me?"

As Dean was being wheeled down the hallway in the gurney, Alec, the real one…well the real one in his head, paced him, his eyes alight with anger, but not evil, not like 492's. Dean wanted to defend himself but between the dehydration making his tongue swollen and the drugs running rampant in his system, forming audible sounds was out.

The hallucination of his brother had no problems communicating. "I can't believe I actually took advice from you. Just because you're older doesn't mean you're smarter, I'm starting to see that. But I'm still relatively new to this brother thing. Didn't know that the second I go and get myself killed you would turn all angsty suicidal on me. No wonder my cloned brothers went psycho, it was a fault in the original DNA."

Internally Dean railed at the insult, threw out a "Screw you Alec," and it was if Alec heard his thoughts because Alec smiled, happy at his spirited comeback.

"So you're not dead yet," Alec patronized. "Thought you were going to lay down and die. No wait, you did one better, almost killed yourself. What were you thinking!"

'I was trying to stop Boris from turning the rest of your family into monsters, that's what!'

"Rest of my family? What are you talking about?" Alec demanded, leaning down over Dean, pacing the gurney as the ceiling lights flashed overhead as they progressed down the corridor.

"Everyone at TC: Max, Josh, the rest…your family. He's trying to create a vaccination to make them obedient to orders, to be cold hearted killers."

"Let him try. The one you're supposed to worry about saving is you!"

"Why? I didn't save you…or Sam."

But when Alec spoke again, it wasn't Alec's voice Dean heard, was the man from before, the sandy haired man that had barked "Careful!" when they jostled him roughly to the gurney when he first arrived at Manticore. That man's voice came out of Alec's mouth, and the words, he thought he had heard them before. "They are alive, Sam and Alec. You hear me, Dean. Your brothers are alive."

Then he blinked his heavy eyes and Alec was gone. Finding himself in a confined space, he rolled his head right, saw the metal walls, recognized them as the sides of a van, like the one that had brought him to Manticore, had taken him away from Sam. A van that was moving.

Looking left, he drew in a sharp breath. His Mother sat there, looking like she had in the world the Djinn had made him believe was real. And he wondered if he were dead, if his Mother was there to lead him to heaven. As if hearing his thoughts, his mother smiled that gentle loving smile that made him feel like he was loved more than any other son ever had been.

"No, sweetheart, you're not dead," her voice as melodious as he remembered, her touch feather light as she stroked his cheek. "I wouldn't take you away from Sam like that."

"Sam's dead, Mom," he painfully told her, wondered if he spoke aloud, if he had to.

"Is that what you really believe, here?" and her other hand came to rest on his chest where his heart lay underneath. "Sam stole your heart the first time you saw him, he smiled for you the most, you know. And Alec, I would have been as proud to call him son as you are to call him brother. He's got your best qualities, your fierce loyalty …and your stubbornness. I can't believe you would think about leaving them, Dean."

"I didn't leave them, they left me. Just like you did, just like Dad did. Everyone I love leaves me. They do the leaving not me, not me."

"Then don't start now," came the commanded and he saw him then, his Father, sitting beside his Mother, his stern but loving eyes focused on him. "You think I sacrificed my soul so you could give up, so that Sam could lose you two and half years later? I wanted you to have a full, long life, Dean. I did what I did to protect you, to save you, did the only thing I could and I wouldn't undo it. But you have to fight, son. You have to remember why you wouldn't surrender your life into the hands of that pretty Reaper in that hospital, how you beat Lilith and managed to survive a hell hound attack."

"Dad, I know why, I know how. Because of Sam, and then Alec came into my life. But they are gone…and so are you. Why do I have to stay, be alone, be the one to carry on when there's no reason to, not anymore." But his Dad didn't answer. He was gone, as was his Mom, they had again left him alone.

Shivering, his teeth began to chatter and he knew that warmth was never going to be something he felt again. He tried to open himself up to the coldness, to let go, to shut out the hallucinations, to accept that Sam, Alec, his Mom, his Dad, they were gone and if he let go, he would be with them again. All he had to do was give up, do what every instinct he had clamored for him to **not **do.

He was envisioning the tendrils of his life slipping away, of moors being untied, of being left adrift, felt himself beginning to sink, not into a lightness but into a void when Sam's shout of his name snapped him back into the outer regions of awareness. Then he felt warm hands cradle his face, wondered if his Mom was there, was going to take him home now that she knew Sam was gone, that he wasn't abandoning his brother but was seeking him out. But the voice that reached him again wasn't his mother's, was Sam's.

"Dean, what did they do to you," and there was heartbreak and sorrow in the familiar tone and one of the warm hands slid through his hair. He felt breath brush across his face, like a warm breeze after a chilly month out in the open.

"I'm here, Dean. And so is Alec. We're both fine, we aren't hurt. Your family is right here with you, Dean. We're going to be alright," Sam promised and Dean wanted to believe him. Opening his eyes, he saw Sam there, close, his brother's eyes tortured, worried but determined, relieved. Wished that it was real, that it wasn't just another hallucination, that his mind wasn't already beyond the point of telling reality from fantasy, just like Boris had predicted.

Surprisingly gentle hands slid behind his legs and shoulders. But when he was picked up by strong arms, his tortured vertebra jostled, he gave a weak cry of pain and let his head loll limply back against the arm that he knew wasn't Sam's, stared up at the face that looked like Sam's but wasn't. Couldn't be. Sam was dead.

He could feel the chest he was drawn against hitch as if a sob was about to burst forth, but it didn't. "That's my Sammy," he murmured, proud that his brother, even this imaginary version of Sam, had its pride. The illusion gave a choked laugh that almost unleashed the sob and then bowed down until his forehead rested against Dean's.

'_Count on even my hallucination of Sam to go all chick flick on me,_' Dean thought, smiled thinking of the way Sam would have protested his words.

Closing his eyes, Dean slipped, not into the darkness but somewhere just under the surface of consciousness. Stubbornly he stayed where he could remain tethered to the mirage of Sam because he couldn't bear to fail even this facade of Sam. He would not leave, not until Sam let him go, until Sam beckoned him to his side. Knew he would know no peace until they were brothers again, him, Alec and Sam, brothers no longer in this world, but the next.

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TBC

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Thanks to the wonderful people who gave me support for last chapter! Every time I get road blocked on any story I'm posting, it's the encouragement in the reviews, the knowledge that just maybe there is one person reading the story who might be disappointed if I don't finish it that makes me risk sharing another chapter. So to everyone who's ever given me a kind word about my writing…thank you!

Have a great day!

Cheryl


	15. Chapter 15: What Matters Most pt 7

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

Author: I apologize for the long wait for an update! I just couldn't write anything worthy, not sure if this is worthy either but I'm hoping that getting this posted, that getting a little further in the storyline helps me find my way again.

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Chapter 15 – What Matters Most – part 7

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This wasn't the reunion Sam had envisioned, had the feel more of defeat than victory. At the sight of Dean's painfully sharp and sallow features, his brother's freckles stark against his nearly colorless skin and the dark bruising rimming Dean's eyes, fear jolted through Sam. And when he picked Dean up in his arms, his brother's body tensed and then fell limp, was terrifyingly void of the strength that usually hummed under the surface. Hearing the whimper of pain from his stoic brother was like having a knife plunged into his heart.

No, this wasn't what he had expected. He was supposed to be greeted with Dean's shocked then blissful expression at the sight of his very alive little brother. Dean would stammer, "Sammy" with such joy, such love that Sam would fight not to react like the girl Dean accused him of being.

At least with respect of his brother's first words, he hadn't gotten that all wrong. "That's my Sammy," Dean had croaked out, pride in his tone. But the words of pride, the tone, he had heard both before: on the floor in a house in New Harmony.

Suddenly he wasn't sure what was coming out of him, a laugh or a sob, couldn't fight either as he bowed his forehead against Dean's, clutched his brother tighter to him.

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Alec felt his world slow down, his heart rate drop, his breathing cease as he came around from the front of the van, watched Sam step down from the back of the vehicle, saw Dean. Dean, who wasn't moving, who was draped across Sam's arms, his head dangling limply, his one arm swinging but only because of Sam's motion.

And in that instant, Alec believed his worst fear was realized, that Dean was dead, that he had lost his brother and there would be no getting him back this time. He stopped mid motion, couldn't take a step forward. Though he had thought he had braced himself for the worst, now, faced with that reality, that they had been too late, that he had let Dean down, had failed Sam, he knew that he wasn't strong enough, wasn't _Winchester_ enough to bear the unfathomable loss.

Tearing his eyes from Dean's still form, he met Sam's expression, begged his big brother to tell him it wasn't so, that Dean wasn't dead. He found that, though there was matching panic in Sam's expression, there wasn't grief, wasn't an abyss of sorrow ripping through Sam's world. Which could mean only one thing: Dean was alive! That he hadn't lost his brother, though there was little supporting proof of that truth in his brother's still form.

Nearly stumbling to the side of his brothers, Alec reached out, let his fingers trail lightly across the grey pallor of Dean's face, tracing the dark bruises of illness shadowing his brother's closed eyes with his thumb. "No," he breathed in heartbreaking denial, his trembling fingers drifting down to rest lightly on the bandage wound around Dean's neck, spotted with blood. He felt bodily ill as one word echoed in his head: _garrote_. A garrote wire had done this damage to his brother, a weapon that was his weapon of choice, had been. It was like Manticore was still mocking him for thinking he could escape his past, wipe all his sins clean, be worthy of a family.

Whatever small grain of lingering doubt Sam had that his Alec was the real one, that Alec wasn't tainted by Manticore's newest wonder drug vanished as he watched Alec's tender interaction with Dean. His younger brother's unmitigated love for Dean was unquestionable in that moment. And his reaction a moment later, when Lydecker jumped down from the back of the Manticore van, barking orders, it proved where Alec's loyalty rested, had always rested.

"We don't have much time. They do radio check-ins every fifteen minutes. I'll debrief you…"

Like the most protective species in the animal kingdom, Alec's instincts transformed from nurturing to defending in a blinking of an eye, a transgenic's eye. Spinning around, Alec blurred to Lydecker and, without wasting breath on a threat, he brutally plowed his elbow into Lydecker's jaw. The Manticore colonel was unconscious before he hit the two lane road.

Even as Lydecker fell, Alec was turning around, returned his focus on what mattered most to him: his brothers. "The guards are down. We need to go," he announced, allowing the proficient soldier in him to take over, to quell the worry at the extent of damage done to Dean, the guilt that he and Sam had allowed it to be inflicted on Dean by their inaction.

Stalking to the stolen catering van parked behind the Manticore vehicle, Alec slid open the door, fought the urge to reach out and touch Dean, to set his brother's dangling hand onto his chest as Sam bent over, began to settle Dean onto the floor of the van. But Alec's hand did shoot out to gently settle Dean's head onto the unpardonably sterile metal flooring. Withdrawing that hand, disconnecting, it was hard but he did it, knew that he couldn't come apart, let his fear for his brother make him weak, not now, not yet.

Sam leapt into the van, knelt beside Dean, was already shucking out of his coat and covering Dean with it when Alec pulled the door shut. As Alec stalked around the front of the van, his eyes gravitated to Lydecker's unconscious form. Cursing, he ran for the colonel. Easily picking the older man up, he tossed him roughly over his shoulder and return to their van. Carelessly dumping Lydecker onto the passenger seat, he slammed the door and then blurred into the driver's seat. Throwing the catering van into gear, he maneuvered by the Manticore vehicle, a vehicle that was ready for the scrap pile thanks to the concentrated beam of an electromagnetic pulse that they had used to fry the engine.

Three miles back Alec had let the van pass his crouched position in the forest before he ran out, littered the road with spikes to ensure that the van wouldn't have any other company on the two lane stretch of blacktop. Well, other company than he and Sam roaring up behind them in their confiscated van. And when they had drawn close enough to the Manticore vehicle, they had unleashed the electromagnetic beam. The military vehicle's engine had died instantly, caused the van to go from cruising to coasting. Pulling to a stop behind the disabled vehicle, Alec had ambled forward, feigning an offer of help. The soldiers didn't even have time to _think_ about defending themselves against Alec's attack.

It had all gone down so easy. And that was a knife in Alec's gut. It was inexcusable that Dean had remained in Manticore's hands _minutes_, let alone _**days**_ when getting him free had proven so pathetically simple. He hated that he had allowed Lydecker to convince him to wait, had insisted that all they could do was wait and he had believed him. With disgust, Alec wondered if some part of him still sought to obey his former commander's orders, still offered him trust where none should reside.

Throwing a glare to the unconscious man slumped in the van's passenger seat, Alec internally growled, '_You were working both sides, weren't you Colonel! Your plan was to give Boris time to achieve his goals and yet still manage to save your own life by getting Dean back to me. Every single mark on Dean is on your head and I will be collecting, that you can count on, Lydecker.'_

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Kneeling beside Dean on the van floor, Sam couldn't force himself to reach out, to touch Dean, his brother looked too fragile, too broken to be further manhandled. "We…we got you out of there as soon as we could Dean," he stammered, his voice cracking on the words that felt like a lie. "You have to believe that," he implored even as a part of him cursed himself for not finding a solution sooner, for not heeding Alec's raw urgency to go for Dean the moment they knew who had him, even without Lydecker's assistance, no matter the risks.

Biting his lip, determined to hold back the flood gates on his emotions, he sat immobile, couldn't even blink, didn't want to lose sight of his brother. But a moment longer, unable to dampen his urge to anchor himself to Dean with a touch, he reached out, had his hand hovering indecisively above his brother's chest when Dean's head rolled left then right. Then his brother called out "Mom" with such raw need that it hurt to hear.

Alec's head snapped around at the sound of Dean's voice, at the vulnerability in his big brother's tone. He kept the van unerringly on the road even as he eyes clung to Dean's slightly shivering form beside Sam, who seemed too stunned to react. "How's he doing?" he tersely asked, forced himself to look away from Dean, to put his gaze back on the road so he didn't end up killing them in a car wreck.

Alec's voice broke Sam out of his stupor. Settling his hand lightly on Dean's chest, he answered Alec, "In the van…he said my name. Then…" He swallowed down the rest, didn't want to allow any dark predictions to slip out, any hope to flutter out the window.

"I swear, Lydecker will tell us everything that they did to him, every drug they have him on," Alec growled out the threat, his eyes stealing, for a second, to the slumped passenger beside him.

Sam recognized Alec's tone. It was the Winchester tone of vengeance, the promise of revenge, the anger that always rose to the surface when any of them feared that they would lose their family, when anyone was suicidal enough to hurt someone that a Winchester loved.

But strangely enough, most of those traits, they weren't in Dean's nature. Dean met fear with devotion, with self sacrifice, used his anger to fight for his family's survival. And Sam had to believe Dean wasn't done fighting.

"Mom. Dad. Don't leave me…" Dean entreated, his arms twitched as if he wanted to reach out, hold tight to the people threatening to leave him.

Instinctively, Sam reached out for Dean, put his hand on Dean's cheek. When his touch effectively stilled his brother's restless motion, he leaned close, tenderly vowed, "Hey, hey. I'm not leaving you, not me or Alec. We didn't leave you, so you don't leave us. That's the deal, right."

"Dead," Dean wheezed out. Then, as if jolting out of a dream, his eyes snapped open and he looked at Sam with surprising lucidity. "My brothers are dead. Both my brothers are dead," he declared with sorrowful defeat

"What?" Sam's shock causing his voice to squeak . "No, I'm right here, Dean. And so is Alec. We're not dead. They lied to you, Dean. **They lied**," he sternly proclaimed as he reached down, found his brother's hand and squeezed it, hard.

But Dean's eyes didn't lighten up at Sam's declaration, instead they dulled further. "You're not here any more than Mom and Dad are. You all just…._left me_."

"No, no, no. We didn't Dean! I'm real," Sam insisted as he slid his hand from Dean's face to behind his brother's head. "I'm _real_."

A bitter chuckle escaped Dean's chapped lips. "You said that in the Djinn world, too. Just…go away Sammy. Go away," Dean implored before he squeezed his eyes shut.

Sam hastily withdrew his hands from his brother. Though he was no stranger to soul decimating pain, the idea that his presence was hurting his brother, that Dean wanted him to go away, that hurt went deeper than any blows that had come before.

Alec's hands tightened on the steering wheel as Dean's words carried to him. Dead. Dean was convinced they were both dead, not just Sam but him too. Dean thought that the voices he heard, the worried face hovering over him was some …some _mirage_ that was induced by his physical exhaustion, conjured up by the drugs that had been pumped into him or was another round of Manticore's headgames. '_Like Manticore sicking a clone of me on him, knowing full well that, Dean wouldn't protect himself, not if it meant hurting me.'_

So yeah, it wasn't surprising that Dean was no longer a member of the "seeing is believing" club. But he still cringed internally at his brother's dismissal, not for himself solely but for Sam too. To have Dean deny him? Worse, to tell him to go away? 'Ouch' didn't cover such wounds.

"He just needs some rest, to let some of the drugs they probably have him on run their course," Alec offered, his eyes meeting Sam's in the rearview mirror. "He doesn't mean what he's saying, Sam."

Sam, unable to speak without showcasing his raw emotion, nodded to Alec in reply. But he soon broke the eye contact with Alec in the mirror, looked back to Dean. Dean who was pretty sure he was dead, and even if he wasn't dead, Dean wanted him to go away.

Alec hoped Sam didn't doubt his words, took them to heart, was equally hoping that Sam wouldn't notice the white knuckled grip he had on the steering wheel that seemingly belied his optimism. Because, yes, sleep and a decrease in the level of drugs in Dean's system, it would help clear Dean's head. But just as surely he knew that there would be other things that wouldn't so easily fade away for Dean, like being betrayed by someone wearing his brother's face, like being treated like a lab rat, like being tortured under the guise of scientific research.

And for all the years Alec had been that, been the rat, been hurt in the name of science, he had never felt bitter, had not had enough self worth to feel that it was anything less that what he had deserved. But that those same things had been done to Dean, to his brother, that was unpardonable, demanded retribution like few things ever would. He would get that justice for Dean. He would exact it from even Lydecker if the man couldn't prove, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was not responsible in any way for the state Dean was in, could convince him that he had done everything in his power to protect Dean.

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Dean was getting worse, Sam could tell that on sight, didn't need to rest his hand on Dean's forehead to know his brother had a fever, could see the creases around his brother's closed eyes that spoke of pain, could hear the catch in his brother's breathing. Whatever drugs, whatever…things they had done to Dean, being out of Manticore's hands wasn't making it all go away.

'_No, that's my job_,' Sam achingly thought, hated that he was letting Dean down, was letting his hurt feelings, his fear keep him from helping Dean. His hands weren't as steady, as sure as they should have been as he removed his draped coat off of his brother's trembling form. His mind wasn't as proficient as it should have been as he catalogued the spots of blood that were seeping through the bandage around Dean's neck, not when he kept flashing back to walking into that motel room and finding Alec, 'clone Alec' garroting Dean. Not when he remembered Dean lying on the floor, hand to his throat, blood welling between his fingers.

'_Stop_!' Sam shouted internally, needed to get himself together, to be the strong one right then. With surer motions, he began to check his brother's body for further harm, stilled at the bandage at his brother's wrist in confusion for a moment until that flashback replayed, until he recalled Dean's bleeding wrist, the way the wire embedded…

Shaking his head to rid himself of the vision, Sam continued his exam, was relieved that Dean didn't react in pain to his prods on his ribs or down his legs, that there were no broken bones. But Sam couldn't forget his brother's cry of pain when he had picked him up in his arms. Though Dean had bore his exam in silent suffering, Sam knew his next actions wouldn't be so light of hand. "I'm just going to roll you over, Dean. Check your back," he warned, his voice filled with affection and apology both as he put action to his words, leaned over Dean and rolled his brother's once again listless body toward him.

When Dean arched in agony, gave that same mournful cry of pain, Sam murmured reassurance of "Sorry, sorry, I'll do it quick, Dean,"but continued to pull Dean over until his brother's body rested against his knees. With Dean propped against him, Sam carefully pulled the shirt up his brother's back. His breath caught. There was massive bruising tracking down his brother's spine, as if Dean had been subjected to a lumbar puncture over and over again by someone wholly unskilled.

Sam hadn't even realized that he had cursed, not until Alec's tersely demanded from the front of the van, "What is it? He doing alright?"

"Sure," Sam bitterly scoffed. "He thinks I'm just a hallucination, they used his spinal cord for a dart board and he looks like a POW from a concentration camp. But yeah, he's good."

"We can change our plans, find some place closer to hole up…" Alec quickly offered, hated that he couldn't be back there too with Dean, had to be designated driver.

"No, I'll feel better with him recuperating at the place you picked out rather than some motel with a flimsy lock and an ever flimsier door," Sam said, though, in truth, it wasn't the strength of their last motel door or even its lock that had failed them. Neither flimsy protective measure mattered when the danger came strolling in wearing such a beloved form.

Grimly, Sam added evil clones to the growing list of creatures he despised, coming in only slightly lower than shape shifters. And shapeshifters only retained their prized #1 spot because they could steal memories, could reveal emotions that weren't theirs, that weren't supposed to be on display, because they could get your brother on the FBI's most wanted list.

Coming back to the trouble at hand, Sam looked to Alec, wanted to watch his brother's reaction as he asked, "You sure you want to take Lydecker there. That we can …" he was going to say trust him but Alec sneeringly said it before he could.

"Trust him? No, but I got questions and he's going to answer them," Alec bit out with a fierceness that hinted strongly at the ramifications if he didn't like the answers that he got.

Sam wasn't sure he would stop Alec from doing as he wished with his former commander. Yes, the man had seemed to have saved their lives and helped them get Dean back. But now he had other transgressions to account for, namely the state in which he had returned Dean to them.

Feeling something touching his calf, Sam looked down in surprise to see Dean's hand tightened around his leg. He knew Dean was bracing himself against the pain, was steadying himself, was reaching out, not for Sam, but for anyone, any_thing_ close enough to hang onto. It wasn't personal, the touch, Sam told himself, wished that it was, that Dean was reaching out for _him. _But at least it was a reaction, meant Dean was conscious again, was marginally aware of his surroundings.

When his examination didn't uncover any life threatening injuries, Sam knew that it was Ok it he moved Dean a little bit, tried to support him. And besides, he flat out refused to lay Dean back on the metal ridged floor of the van, not after he saw the state of his back. He didn't want to imagine the agony the jostling of the van's less-than-inspection-meeting shocks had to be wracking on Dean.

So, instead of rolling Dean back to the van floor, he shifted Dean upright, braced him against his own chest. He grimaced at Dean's small low moan, was surprised Dean followed it up with a slurred, "Easy with the merchandise."

Sam's lips turned up in a small smile at Dean's cocky return. Titling his head to the left, he looked down at his brother's face, wished Dean's eyes were open, that he could believe Dean knew he was with him, really with him. "Merchandise, huh? So now that you're in demand, what, you want me to call you the Ten Million Dollar man?"

"Fifty…" Dean countered, "I'm easy…not cheap." Sam was about to laugh at Dean's comeback but Dean's whispered next words cut him to the quick. "Sam would know that."

Clenching his jaw to hold back the lump from turning into something more vulnerable, Sam didn't comment, couldn't. Instead he reached over and snagged a water bottle from the cooler and opened it. "Bet you're thirsty?" he lightly asked.

"Yes," Dean replied with open craving. But he knew that was wrong, that he hadn't wanted to admit that. With dread, Dean realized that the truth serum part of Boris' drug was now kicking in. If he didn't want to give Boris a victory in sudden death overtime, he would have to fight the effects of the drug to the end. But he wondered if he could…if he had the strength anymore.

Hoping Dean was replying to his question and not delirious, Sam put the bottle to Dean's lips, started to tilt it back to give Dean a drink. He nearly dropped the water bottle when Dean sputtered on the very first drop of water and thrashed in his grasp, pushing his hands away and with his voice little more than a raspy croak he nearly begged, "No…no….no…I can't….no…no… please _don't._"

Hastily dropping the opened bottle back into the cooler, Sam wrapped his arms around his brother, pinned Dean's arms to his chest, and murmured against Dean's hair, "Sh…sh…sh…It's alright. That was my fault. You're not thirsty, I get it. You don't have to drink right now."

At Sam's words, all the fight went out of Dean and he slumped back against Sam's chest. He had almost given in, had almost sacrificed everything for something as meaningless as thirst, had almost failed to keep the last promise he had vowed to uphold for his brothers. That he would make sure that they hadn't died in vain, that Boris wouldn't win, that the other transgenics would be safe. "Tired.." he exhaled, knew it was another confession but he didn't think that it mattered. Boris' men that were probably listening, probably there holding him instead of his brother, they didn't know the depths of his exhaustion, that it wasn't a physical weariness as much as it was a faltering of his strength, of his willpower. He couldn't hold on, not much longer. He wished his hallucination of Sam would go away so he could let go, stop fighting to stay alive. But he couldn't ask Sam to leave, not again…he just might listen to him this time.

"Sammy, I'm so tired.." he brokenly admitted, his pride having deserted him a long time again. Part of him was grateful that, if he was only left with his hallucinations for company, at least they came in friendly forms. So far.

"I know, I know," Sam choked out, wondered how much more of his brother's pain he could witness before he broke down himself. "You can sleep Dean. I'll stand guard, OK," he offered like he had so many times before on a hunt. "But let's get you more comfortable, huh?"

Hearing movement behind him, Alec glanced in the rearview mirror, tilted the mirror down until he could see his brothers. Sam had moved, now had his back leaning against the side of the van. And half cradled in his arms was Dean, his left shoulder cushioned by Sam's legs and his head resting in the crook of Sam's elbow. He could just hear Sam's quiet murmurings, "Remember when we were kids in the back seat of the Impala, you always made me be your pillow. And you pinched me if I moved and always said my legs were too…"

Without opening his eyes, Dean murmured, "Boney," responding to the memories the hallucination of his brother brought to mind. It felt so real, the soft cotton fabric under his cheek, the legs beneath him, the voice drifting down upon him from above. Shifting a little until he found a more comfortable spot, he gave a small exhale of contentment.

Watching Dean settle trustingly in Sam's arms, seeing the small flickering of joy that came over Sam's features at Dean's response to not only his story but to his presence, Alec found himself smiling. Dean was still in there, still responded, even if it was mostly on an instinctively level, to Sam. And that was enough good news to give Alec hope that what Manticore had done could be undone, that what had always been true was still true: nothing came up against the forces of Winchester stubbornness and won. Nothing.

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Cutting the engine of the van, Alec looked at the large shingle style house that seemed more a part of the forest behind it than an intrusion upon the natural landscape. He could see the red "No Trespassing" sign posted on the door, but it took his superior eyesight to read the small print telling any interested party that the property had been seized by the Federal Government for crimes of tax evasion. No civilians would be bothering them here, and Boris and his men, if they found them, they would have to disarm the security at the front gate like Alec had to do to get in. Not to mention the booby traps Alec planned to set up all around the house's perimeter '_This'll be our own private little Terminal City command right here.'_

Turning to the passenger seat, he smirked at Lydecker's unconscious form. The man truly was getting too old to play the game anymore. Twisting around, he slipped between the seats and crouched down beside his brothers, his eyes skimming Dean's still form and then coming to rest on Sam's questioning expression.

"Well, we're home sweet home…at least for a few days, anyway," Alec announced, forced a lightness in his tone he wasn't feeling, not yet. He had been a soldier too long to let down his guard until the last threat was neutralized.

"Great…because both my legs are asleep," Sam sheepishly admitted, putting his hand on Dean's shoulder as if silently outing the culprit for his lack of circulation. "Can you carry him in?" he asked casually, but when he looked up, when his eyes met Alec's, the seriousness of his request was undeniable.

Things had changed, Alec had known that, but how drastically he hadn't guessed that until now, until he realized that in less than a year's time he had gone from being the DNA thief Sam didn't trust to being the only one Sam would entrust with Dean's life. A small part of Alec wanted to tell Sam he shouldn't trust him like that, that Dean's life, it shouldn't be put in the hands of someone only part human, whose past kept biting them on the butt, whose screwed up childhood education Dean could now attest to. If Manticore's cruel manipulations damaged someone as strong as Dean, how could Alec ever be sure how damaged he himself was on the inside, how could he be sure there weren't time bombs lying in wait to go off, to make him flip out, become a danger to the ones he loves.

Alec startled as a hand came to rest on his knee, found that Sam was staring at him in concern. "If you don't want to…" Sam began, had never thought Alec would shy away from helping Dean.

"No!" Then Alec softened his tone, "No…" He didn't want his lost time in thought to be misconstrued as a refusal when it was anything but. "Any broken bones, internal injuries?" he asked, didn't want to move Dean an inch until he knew how to do it in a way that wouldn't worsen Dean's condition.

"No but his back…" Sam eyes shied away from Alec's, the action saying more than Sam verbalize, could have managed to coldly catalogue.

Alec gave his own non-verbal reply of a nod and then he opened the van's sliding side door before turning back to Dean. It was a group effort, him pulling and Sam pushing to get Dean draped over his shoulder. It was all wrong, how light Dean felt balanced over his shoulder, that Dean didn't even wake up at the manhandling, that his big brother didn't offer up his standard protesting rants at being treated like a child. That Dean didn't seem to care, about anything. And that scared Alec. He could see matching fear in Sam's eyes as his brother lumbered out of the van, nearly stumbled as his legs protested the enforced action.

"What about Lydecker?" Sam nodded toward their first house guest.

"I'll secure him in the basement or something," Alec dismissed their prisoner as he headed for the front door of their high rent hideout. "Place like this probably has small dungeons fit for an indentured slave."

"Yeah, probably," Sam agreed as he looked up at the shingled roof, the moss that crept up the walls and intertwined itself with the railing on the wrap around porch. "You do know that Dean will hate this place, say it's so creepy it deserves to be haunted, at the very least salted and burned."

"Hey, my other choice was a Second Empire style home, which is way creepier than this one, or a Spanish Colonial Revival one that I know would have prompted Dean to annoy us with his impression of a Mexican accent, which always, always comes off like Speedy Gonzales. So this seemed the lesser evil," Alec defended. Honestly he couldn't wait until Dean was awake, for his brother to come back to himself, realize that his brothers were there with him. And, for the record, he was really looking forward to Dean whining about his choice of hide outs. It was one of the reasons this house had caught his eye on the website in the first place.

"The fact that you know the difference between those house styles…now that, that will creep Dean out," Sam joked, could just imagine Dean's reaction to a brother of theirs having such knowledge. It would surely put Alec at the top of Dean's 'you're such a girl' list and Sam, he was soooo ok with giving up his reigning spot.

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TBC

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Well, hope it wasn't too much of a disappointment…

Have a great evening!

Cheryl W.


	16. Chapter 16: What Matters Most pt 8

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

Author: Wow! Thanks for the great feedback and support for last chapter! Just when I think no one's out there listening…you guys shower me with encouragement.

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Chapter 16 – What Matters Most – part 8

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When Dean surfaced again from the void, he opened his eyes to the sight of his two brothers looking down at him. But they weren't alone.

"Lilith." Her name came out of Dean as little more than a horrified hiss of air. Because, standing between his brothers, one of her small hands in each of theirs, was a little blonde girl. A little girl he had last seen in New Harmony.

At Dean's utterance of Lilith's name, at the fear in Dean's eyes, Sam's blood ran cold. Horrified, _furious_ that Manticore's manipulations were resurrecting Lilith in Dean's mind, he let out a low inhuman growl of "no" and came forward, reached for Dean, refused to allow that memory to take hold of his brother.

Lilith's lips turned up into a smile too wicked for any child to ever wear and Dean watched as the little girl morphed into Ruby right before his eyes. But the evil in the eyes that met his, it stayed the same. "No! Stay away from them!" Dean venomously spat. With a feral instinct to protect his brothers overriding his body's weakness, he lunged for Lilith.

Though startled by Dean's shout, Sam wasn't expecting his brother to marshal together his feeble strength and surge from the bed. Even as he dove forward, Dean was collapsing to the floor, his legs crumbling under him.

Alec barely reacted in time. It was a clumsy save, his hands snatching onto Dean's arm and his shirt, Dean's head colliding with his elbow. As he drew Dean to his feet, his brother frantically fought to be free of his hold. Dean's eyes, wide with fear, never left Sam.

"Ah Dean, you didn't really think some little knife could kill me, did you?" Lilith taunted with Ruby's voice. Stepping closer to Sam, she laid her head on his brother's shoulder like a lover would. Reaching out, she touched Sam's face with a delicate stroke. "Oh Dean, Sam's all mine now. He was always destined to be mine, no matter what you ever did. But you not protecting him, letting him die, that made things so much easier…I should thank you for that."

"No," Dean brokenly protested, fought to get to Lilith, to get to Sam, to slip out of Alec's inhumanly strong hold. Why wasn't Alec helping him save Sam! Why wasn't Alec attacking Lilith? He felt that raging doubt again, wondered if who held him was Alec at all. Fearing that he was immersed in another round of the clone game again, he met Alec's eyes. What he saw though, was something that 492 didn't even have the capability to replicate: kindness, love, that luminous light that was Alec's and Alec's alone. "Alec," he breathed out in joyous relief, knew soul deep that this was his brother in front of him, not some scientific experiment gone wrong.

When Dean stopped struggling in his hold, when his brother looked at him, really looked at him, Alec clung to a mustard seed of hope that Dean was coming out of it, would realize that he wasn't just some element in a dream, a nightmare, that he was his little brother, alive and well. His name coming from Dean like an endearment, the fact that Dean's grip on him was changing from a defensive brace to a possessive hold, it seemed surefire proof that his hopes weren't misplaced.

Sliding her hand slowly, even tenderly from Sam's face, Lilith stepped forward. Her motion snagged Dean's attention. Trying to pull Alec behind him, out of Lilith's grasp, he threatened, "Stay back!" wanted to shout it out but it came out as a pathetic croak, his throat too dry for such a demonstration of outrage.

But Lilith didn't heed his threat, smiled brazenly as she reached out, ran her hands through Alec's hair. "You were keeping Alec from me, weren't you? But hide and seek, it's my favorite game. " Circling Dean, she whispered in his ear, "I always win. And I have, Dean. Everyone that you love, they've all sold their souls to me. Alec was the last hold out…" She reached down and easily pried Dean's hands free of their hold on Alec.

Alec cried out in alarm as Dean jerked fiercely in his arms, managed to break free of his hold. But Dean couldn't keep his feet, not on his own, immediately began to drop to the floor.

Dean fell in slow motion, was just a helpless onlooker as Lilith turned Alec's face toward hers, as her lips drew closer to his little brother's. Her eyes on him she taunted, "Alec promised me his soul if I let him see you again. It's a pathetic wish but, what can I say, I've got a sweet tooth for Winchester souls. "

"NO!" Dean howled, "NO!" wanting to kill Lilith, to ensure that his brothers didn't suffer the fate that they had spared him from: an eternity in hell.

Almost tackling Dean, Sam wrapped his arms around Dean from behind, stopped his brother's uncontrolled descent. The desperation in Dean's shouts vibrated through them both as he held on tightly to his brother's body.

Strong ropes suddenly coiled around Dean's chest, bound his reaching arms to his side, the pitiless force holding him back from reaching Alec. "No, Alec, no!" he screamed, fought with a frenzy to get to Alec, to stop the scene in front of him from unfolding.

Terrified that Dean would hurt Alec, hurt himself if he let him go, Sam brutally dug his hands into Dean's arms and yanked Dean down to the ground with him. Together they crashed to their knees.

As horrible as what had come before had been, Dean's "No, Alec, no!" and his alarmed struggling was worse. Cold dread overcame Alec. '_Dean thinks I'm the clone, that I'm here to kill him, to maybe kill Sam, to finish my mission_.' Stumbling back a few steps, Alec stammered, "Its Alec, Dean. I won't hurt you."

Lilith only smiled at Dean's protests. "No!" Dean nearly sobbed as Lilith gently touched Alec's lips with her own.

Kneeling on the floor, restraining his struggling brother in his arms, Sam wished that he was the one caught up in a hallucination, that none of it was real. '_But it is real! You have to deal with it! Make it better. Have to get Dean's fever down because he's burning up.' _And he was, the hot skin under Sam's hands, the heat coming from Dean's body as he cinched it to his own, it spoke of a dangerous, even fatal fever. But what panicked Sam worse was the terror in his brother's shouts. Whatever Dean was seeing, it was worse than anything else they had faced in their lifetime.

"Dean! Dean?" he called out but Dean was insensible to the world around him, could only see what was playing in his head, some twisted meshing of a dark memory or his worst nightmare.

"Alec?" Dean called out even as he knew it was too late, the deal was made. Lifting his head from Lilith's kiss, Alec looked at Dean, his eyes a solid black. Obediently coming to Lilith's other side, Sam kissed her on the neck and then smiled at Dean, his eyes matching Alec's.

"No," Dean choked out, still fighting to be free as his world imploded, clinging to the slim hope that, if he killed Lilith, he could undo it, could still save his brothers' souls. "No, no, no."

"Whatever you're seeing, it's not real, Dean," Sam insisted, yanking Dean ruthlessly against him when Dean's struggles managed to wedge a few inches of space between them. But Dean only thrashed harder in his grip. Honestly he didn't know where Dean's strength was coming from. '_Terror_,' came the insidious answer because, though Dean had faced the prospect of hell itself, whatever Dean thought was happening right now was far worse than that.

Fury flared in Sam like a bonfire at his brother's misery, that someone had done this to Dean. "Go get Lydecker," he menacingly ordered, his eyes coming up to meet Alec's for the first time. "He's going to tell us what they gave Dean, how we stop these hallucinations," he growled between clenched teeth, wasn't sure if he was keeping Dean together or if his connection with Dean was one only thing preventing his own emotions from unraveling.

Internally shrinking from the burning hatred in Sam's eyes, from the aching defeat on Dean's face, Alec found he couldn't move, was torn between following Sam's orders and his heart's. Cowardly, he wanted to run away from the sight of his brothers in such misery, was equally terrified that if he left, if he let Dean or even Sam out of his sight, he would lose them, feared that something would change in his absence.

At Alec's inaction, Sam shouted, "Alec, go!" couldn't take the time to mend the traumatized look in his younger brother's eyes, not then. Not when Dean was struggling in his arms, though weaker now, but his broken "no"s hadn't lost any of their desolation. His harsh order breaking Alec from his indecision, he watched as his younger brother fled the room, knew that Alec would drag Lydecker to the room if he had to.

Left alone with Dean, Sam's breath hitched with a choked sob. He didn't know what to do, how to reach Dean, how to make any of this better. And the fact that Dean had always found a way to make things better for _him_, it just toppled more guilt on his head, made him feel more useless than he already did. Through all the crap life had thrown at them, at _him_, Jess's death, his visions, their father's death, even Dean's deal, it was Dean who had always kept him from coming apart. It had never been the other way around, had never _needed_ to be the other way around. Until now.

"I'm right here, Dean. I'm here," he assured softly. Easily overriding his brother's weakening struggles, he pulled Dean back against his chest, rested his head against Dean's. "Whatever's going through that freaky head of yours…it's not real. Lilith.." his voice caught on the name, on the memories, of how very close she had come to destroying his world. "She's dead, Dean," he coldly stated, still feeling a fission of terror sizzling through him that her name had come from Dean. "I killed her. She can't hurt you anymore, can't hurt any of us."

Dean gave a forlorn moan of denial or pain, Sam didn't know which. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, Dean. I know I've done a crappy job of protecting you so far but…I've had a really good teacher so I'm not a total lost cause." And he longed for Dean to make a comeback, to gloat about how great a teacher he was, how lousy a student Sam was. But Dean, he wasn't that Dean right now, wasn't Sam's seemingly invincible big brother, was someone traumatized, someone tortured, someone who was at the mercy of whatever drugs they had given to him.

Speaking quietly, his breath rustling Dean's hair, Sam said, "You don't have to always be the hero, Dean. Not for me, not for Alec. But being our brother, that's something you're not getting out of, ever." Then he began to hum Metallica, prayed that it reached Dean, that Dean heard it, knew what it meant: that someone who loved him was close, that not everybody had abandoned him.

Down where logic still resided in him, Dean realized that he had lost time, that between the blinks of his eyes, Lilith had vanished. But gone also were Alec and Sam.

He was alone.

Or thought he was until he heard it, a soft sound, music, someone humming. Someone humming Metallica. And as improbable as it was, he knew only one person who would do that for him, the only one person in all the world who knew that would calm him down. "Sammy," he exhaled in relief, let himself give into his exhaustion, to stop fighting the ropes..the hands that were restraining him.

Startled but warmed by Dean's affectionate murmur of his name, Sam felt the tension drain from Dean's body, felt the feverish body collapse against him with a sigh. Raising his head from Dean's, he watched his brother's eyes close.

As the humming continued, Dean knew that Lilith wasn't there, hadn't been there. It had been just another maze within a maze in his head. He knew too that Sam, he wasn't there either.

And maybe it was the biggest chick flick thought he had ever had but he still _felt_ Sam there with him. As if Sam refused to abandon him, even in death, that Sam's love for him was too strong to fade away, would always remain with him.

"Without you around Sam, I'm turning into the girl in the family," he gripped, laid the fault purely at Sam's feet.

Trying not to take his brother's dismal of his presence to heart, Sam cracked back, "You always _were_ the girl in the family Dean."

"Shut up…" Dean weakly laughed back but his voice was a vulnerable plea as he qualified a second later, "But don't stop humming, ok, Sammy?"

"I won't, Dean. I won't," Sam promised as he resumed humming, would hum until he lost his voice if it kept Dean calm, if it reminded Dean that he was with him in some form or anything, if it proved to Dean that he wasn't alone.

SNRPSNRPSNRPSN

Lydecker woke up abruptly, uncertain what sound had startled him back to the land of the living. Raising his head, he moaned in pain. In defeat, he resumed his prone position on the cold flooring. The pain, however, clarified things, like his last conscious thought of Alec taking him down with extreme prejudice. '_Guess he got a look at Dean_,' he bitterly realized. Though he didn't have a brother himself, didn't even have a DNA donor adopted one, he could hazard how he would feel if _his_ brother came back looking like he had been vacationing in hell.

He was trying to get his blurry vision to sharpen, to figure out where he was when strong hands yanked him off the concrete floor and began half pulling, half dragging him up a set of stairs. When he stumbled and his knees crashed down onto the steps, he got his first clear look at his captor. Faced with Alec's lethal expression, he knew it was very likely that he was being taken to his own execution.

"Get on your feet. Now!" Alec snarled, wanting to lash out at Lydecker, to punish the colonel for every mark on Dean. What stayed his hand, it wasn't his humanity, his control, was simple necessity. They needed Lydecker alive because he might know how to help Dean.

Ignoring his body's protests, overriding his pride that told him that he didn't have to obey commands from an X-series, ever, Lydecker stood up, forced his stiff limbs to perform at least with half their usually proficiency. He had looked into the clone 492's eyes and seen evil but what he saw in Alec's eyes now, it spoke of something more deadly: stark, almost debilitating pain, a fathomless fear.

Stumbling up two sets of stairs in a house that he didn't remember being carried into, Lydecker was shoved inside a bedroom. He came up short at the sight before him, of Sam, on the floor, his arms wrapped around a nearly comatose Dean, humming. It was an intimate, tender scene, one he felt unworthy of witnessing. As if his very presence tainted the scene, Sam suddenly looked up and stopped humming. And the murderous look in Sam's eyes, it dwarfed what had blazed in Alec's.

Entering the room, seeing that Dean had settled down, had his eyes closed, was trustingly resting in Sam's hold, Alec felt as unworthy to be there as Lydecker in that moment. Manticore had used Dean's love, Dean's devotion for him to capture Dean, to control Dean, to do _this_ to Dean. How could he make amends for being Dean's weakness? And how could he say he was sorry for something that he would never be sorry for? For getting a family, for knowing what it was to be loved completely, for having a brother that would rather die by his hands than kill him to survive.

Meeting the eyes of the person who had every right to hold him accountable for everything, Alec was floored by what he saw in Sam's eyes. Sam _wanted_ him there, was even glad he was back. Skirting around Lydecker, he crouched down in front of his brothers, hated to speak, to rouse Dean from his relaxed pose, to break the miraculous peace that had been found since his departure from the room.

"He keeps going in and out of consciousness," Sam quietly explained, worry carrying in his words and stark fear evident in the look that he gave Alec.

"Should I…" Alec began but then he faltered. What he was offering, to get Dean back in bed, it was pathetic, wasn't a solution, wasn't something that would make any thing better. But Sam seemingly understood what he had been about to offer and nodded, accepted his inadequate help with unmitigated gratitude, treated it like it was something greater than it was.

Sliding his hands under Dean's knees and back, Alec lifted his brother into his arms, took Dean away from Sam and Sam allowed it but his eyes tracked his every motion. Torn between being thankful and scared that Dean didn't stir at the manhandling, he laid him on the bed. Straightening out Dean's tangle of legs, he put his hand to Dean's forehead and grimaced at the heat radiating off of his brother. He prayed that Lydecker could tell them how to bring down Dean's rising temperature, to get the hallucinations to abate. Wanted Dean to stop seeing him as a monster, to see him as his brother, as someone that wouldn't hurt him for all the world.

For all the expectations Lydecker had had for Alec, for all the potential he knew the transgenic had, for all the times that he had been there to see Alec succeed, in completing his first assassination, leading his first unit mission, coming out of Psy-Ops mostly in one piece, he wasn't expecting this moment to hit him so profoundly. To feel such…_pride_. Pride in Alec, in the man that he had become, in the tender and protective way that he interacted with these men, with his brothers. He might have given Alec _life_ but Dean, Sam, they had given Alec a reason to _live_, he could see that now, so clearly it made his eyes sting. He was so distracted that he didn't see the danger approaching, not until Sam Winchester towered over him.

"Tell me what they did to him," Sam's demand was adamant but almost eerily calm.

Taking a small retreating step back and holding his hand up as if to ward off an attack, Lydecker scrambled to form the right words, to phrase things in the best way. He began to speak slowly, needed some things to be understood first. "I already told you, they were doing tests on his DNA, were trying to create a way to control the other transgenics."

Sam bound forward, grabbed fistfuls of Lydecker's jacket and gave the man a brutal shake. "Just tell me! Tell me what they did to him!" Sam shouted, part of him fearing that Lydecker was one of Dean's torturers, that he had trusted a man that had taken pleasure in hurting his brother.

Lydecker met the younger Winchester's eyes before his gaze drifted over to Alec, who had come to stand rigidly at his brother's side, waiting, like a wild animal coiled to attack a predator after the leader of their pack had had their fill. Lydecker didn't have any delusions of how poorly these two men would take the truth. The truth of what Boris had done to Dean, of the lengths Dean himself had gone to steal victory from Boris. He knew it likely that they would hold him responsible for some of their brother's pain, maybe all of it. That telling the truth, it could be akin to signing his own death warrant.

"Tell me!" Sam growled, the last of his patience bleeding away at Lydecker's obvious reluctance to answer him, at the horror that wasn't abating at having had to restrain his brother minutes ago, of the bittersweet feel of his alive but delirious bother in his arms. In the cruel facts that right now, he and Dean were apart even when they were together. And Lydecker, he had something to do with that.

With a frustrated exhale of air Lydecker admitted, "It's more what he did to himself," because, he had _tried_ to protect Dean from Boris. But somehow, the young man had found a way to make that impossible, had done things, taken steps that …Lydecker just didn't see coming.

"What does that mean?" There was a deadly warning in Alec's tone for Lydecker to choose his next words carefully.

Facing Alec, Lydecker began, "When your brother realized that the clone wasn't you…"

"Why didn't you tell me that Dean figured that out?" Alec hissed, would have landed a punch to his former commander if Sam wasn't in the way, wasn't claiming first dibs on Lydecker.

"492, he showed Dean your bar code as proof that you were dead. It didn't leave a lot of room for doubt," Lydecker ruefully admitted before he switched his focus to Sam. "And Dean was there when they started the room on fire with you inside. There was no reason for him to think that you were still…"

"Alive. He still doesn't believe that," Sam quietly concluded, though it was painful, saying it aloud. Silently he cursed, couldn't imagine how that had hurt Dean, to think he had lost him the way they had lost their mother: to fire. Fire caused by evil, though not so supernatural this time.

Absently, Alec rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, could feel the faint imprint of his genetic bar code reemerging on the new skin forming there. He hadn't been able to figure out why it had been taken …until now. It was a friggin Proof of Death confirmation.

Without prodding from either of Dean's brothers, Lydecker continued, knew it would be best to get everything out in the open. "Boris, he told Dean that he was going to use his DNA to create a drug that would turn everyone in Terminal City into obedient assassins. Your brother," Lydecker hesitated, met Alec's eyes. A part of him wanted to spare Alec this pain, knew just as certainly that he couldn't. "Your brother, he wasn't going to let that happen," he revealed, pride in his tone for the young man's tenacity.

Sam's breath caught at Lydecker's words because he knew his brother, knew the lengths Dean would go to save people, had gone to save him. "What did he do?" his question was barely above a whisper but the anguish in his eyes hinted at the screams of denial that were building inside him.

Steeling him for Sam's reaction, for Alec's, Lydecker dropped his eyes. "He stopped eating and drinking…"

Cursing at the newest revelation, Sam ruthlessly shoved Lydecker away from him and began to pace the length of the room. It made sick sense now, Dean's reaction when he had tried to give him a drink in the van.

"Dean must have realized that Boris wouldn't give him any drugs or do anything to interfere in any way with the natural functions of his body and mind. That Boris wouldn't resort to intravenous treatments even to keep him alive, not when any of those measures could compromise the success of the serum," Lydecker explained, hoped that the two men understood how smart their brother was, that his actions were born out of a determination to do the right thing, to protect the transgenics.

"How long?" Alec demanded, needing the answer more than wanting it.

Understanding Alec's abbreviated question, Lydecker told him how long his brother had refused water and food. "Since he learned you were dead. Three days ago."

"And you didn't tell us this!" Alec thundered, invading Lydecker's personal space, his hands itching to inflict damage, to maybe even kill.

"It didn't change anything," Lydecker stated rationally, knew an instant before Alec struck out that he had said that wrong, all wrong. Stumbling back at the right cross that nearly broke his jaw, he didn't have the opportunity to fall. Alec pinned him against the wall, knocking the breath out of him. As the transgenic's hand pulled back to unleash another blow, Lydecker wheezed out, "Wait, wait! I meant that you couldn't have gotten him out anyway, that there was nothing you could do until the transfer happened. And I knew…if I told you, if you knew how bad he was, you would make an assault on the facility to get him out and you would either die trying or get captured."

"Oh, you would be amazed at what we can do," Sam proclaimed, a deadliness in his words as he came to stand beside Alec, his eyes boring into the enemy he perceived in the room.

Pressing Lydecker harder against the wall, Alec spat, his eyes brimming with hatred, "So you did what comes naturally to you: you lied to me, you betrayed us. You put your plans above Dean's welfare."

"Like I said, you couldn't get to him. I thought…I thought we had more time, I never thought he would…"

"Would what?" Sam demanded, sensed that they were finally about to hear all of it. "Never thought he would _what_?"

Lydecker's eyes darted from brother to brother, tried to determine which man would be more reasonable. Some small decision made, he met Sam's eyes. "Boris knew Dean was…that he was losing his chance to get his research done. So today he gave Dean a hot shot of this drug that boosts brain functions, would give him defined results and make Dean more…compliant. It would also cause a subj…" he broke off, didn't need Alec's hands curling more cruelly into his flesh as a warning, to know that he had misspoken. He knew it the instant the word formed on his tongue.

"_Subject_," Alec supplied, taunted. "Go ahead, use the correct terminology."

Unable to deny Alec's guess, Lydecker let out a defeated breath. "It would cause a ..subject to suffer vivid hallucinations."

As much as that made sense, Alec knew that, with Manticore, it wasn't the truth unless it was the worst thing you could ever imagine. "Then what?" At Lydecker's bluff of confusion, he shouted, "Then what! After the hallucinations, then what happens!"

"After a few days..there is no reality, is only the hallucinations and things start shutting down…"

"What things?" Sam breathlessly asked, taking a step back, distancing himself from Lydecker, from what Lydecker would say next.

But it was Alec who answered him. "Organs, lungs….heart," because he had seen a few transgenics go under such treatments, had watched them die in painful, slow stages.

"I already gave him an antigen when they put him in the van for the transfer," Lydecker reassured, was released so savagely from Alec's painful grip that he almost fell, ended up stumbling against the wall.

"Antigen, what about something that reverses the effects now!" Alec railed back.

"The best way to stop the effects of the drug is to build up Dean's own antibodies. The drug is tailor-made to integrate with the subject's DNA."

"Manticore, it always makes it personal," Alec sneered as he began to strip off his jacket and roll up his sleeve. "We can increase the antibodies by giving Dean some of my blood."

"He still has some of your blood in his system," Lydecker supplied, earning him surprised looks from both brothers. "It showed up on the tests. Probably the reason his mind's not more compromised by now."

"Then more won't hurt," Alec stated, ready to head out the door and track down a sharp knife and a friggin straw if that was all he had to work with to get the blood transfusion started.

But Lydecker reached out, snagged Alec's arm, stopped his headlong pace. "It might do more damage than good if his body is already creating antibodies. Your blood might be seen as an intruder into his system, and the antibodies may waste precious time fighting to ward off your blood rather than the drug."

"I'm not going to just twiddle my thumbs and let him suffer!" Alec shot back, pointing to Dean's unconscious figure on the bed.

"He has to fight this on his own…" Lydecker began, couldn't help think '_If he has any fight left in him._' "You have to get through to him, make him realize that you're alive…"

"We'll reach him," Sam resolutely vowed. "He's not fighting alone anymore." He would not let anyone or anything stand in his way of fighting beside Dean, even if the battleground was in Dean's own mind.

Lydecker admired Sam's loyalty to Dean, wanted to believe that Sam and Alec could reach Dean through the drug's effects, that Dean would choose to live. But to do that, to reach Dean, Dean's brothers had to know just how dark a place Dean was in right now.

"You have to know the rest of it then," he quietly said, eyes on the floor before they came up, met Alec's green gaze. "When Boris gave Dean the drug, when Dean realized that he was soon going to lose the ability to retaliate, to fight …" Lydecker's mouth dried up, the words catching in his throat. During his years in the military, he had had to tell many a family member that their loved ones were killed in action, wouldn't be coming home. This news, telling Dean's brothers what he had done, the revelation seemed just as cruel. But Alec was there, holding his breath, his eyes locked on his, waiting for him, trusting him to tell him the truth, to give him some way to help his brother. "Dean tried to kill himself, opened the wounds on his neck and his arm so that he would bleed out."

"Shut up!" Alec roared, his hand flying out to clamp around Lydecker's throat. "You tell me one more lie…"

"It's the truth.." Lydecker rasped out, his own hand desperately grabbing for Alec's, trying to loosen the stranglehold.

"It can't be!"

Alec's voice, Lydecker's, it was all background noise for Sam, for the loud pounding of his heart. As much as he didn't want to believe it, Sam knew, he _knew_…Dean would do it, he would. Dean would choose to die rather than be used as a weapon to hurt others. 

"Sam?" Alec worriedly called as Sam unexpectedly stumbled out of the room and down the hallway. Hastily releasing Lydecker, Alec took up pursuit of his brother, wasn't surprised it ended up in the bathroom. Stopping in the doorway, he watched as Sam doused his face with the water cupped in his hands, held it there as if he were trying to drown himself before he let the water cascade between his fingers, came up heaving for breath. "I'll get Lydecker to tell us the truth if it's the last words he ever speaks," Alec promised darkly, had training in torture that he had never had cause to use before now. He almost didn't hear Sam's quiet declaration.

"I don't think he's lying."

"What?" Alec lightly scoffed, thought Sam was joking. He had to be. But when Sam stood up straight, dried off his face and their eyes met, he knew Sam _believed _Lydecker. "You can't be serious? Dean would never…."  
"Do something desperate if he thought the last of his family was gone? Would never willingly choose to die? Would never think that giving up his life was a fair sacrifice if it saved others?" Sam achingly posed, his tone without anger, without judgment, but drowning in sorrowful conviction.

Alec stepped back from Sam, from Sam's words, all color draining from his face. "You're talking _suicide_ …"

"What I'm talking about is despair mixed with a resolve to make sure Boris's experiment didn't work, that he didn't help Boris enslave all of the transgenics."

But Alec shook his head in furious denial. "No! He would think of something else..would fight…"

"Why? Because we need him to be this bigger than life hero who never fails, never gives up? Alec…he thought he watched me die. When he realized that the Alec with him wasn't you, they gave him proof that you were dead. Dean thought that we were both dead and he was going to be used as weapon." With a sardonically bitter bite to his words, Sam said, "You and I both know that sacrificing his own life to save others, Dean doesn't think that's too much to ask."

"No, no, after his deal, after the hell hounds, he **changed,**" Alec refuted, couldn't believe Sam was talking so crazy, that didn't know the strength of Dean's willpower.

But grief gathered in Sam's eyes, carried in his quiet, unapologetic tone. "We wanted to believe that he had changed, Alec. It doesn't mean that he did…"

"I need some air," Alec briskly cut across Sam's words. Turning on his heel, he stalked down the hallway.

"Alec," Sam called out but his brother was taking the stairs three at a time, was getting as far away from him as quickly as he could. "You handled that great big brother," Sam chastised himself, knew that, once again, he was failing by leaps in bounds in comparison to Dean's big brother model.

Drawing in a steadying breath, Sam returned to Dean's room. Ordering Lydecker from the room with a jerk of his head, he claimed a seat on the bed and stared down at his brother's slack, pale face. "That went craptastic, by the way. You could have interrupted, you know. Stood up for yourself." Dean didn't give a reply, didn't even have the decency to flutter his eyes. "You're not off the hook, you know. I'm pissed at you and you're gonna hear about it…just not right now," he ended softly, his hand coming out to rest lightly on Dean's chest. He felt the racing of his brother's heart. Dehydration, it was another problem to add to the tally.

Refusing food or water for three days to screw up Boris' experiment, to save countless lives…Alec was wrong, it sounded just like their stubborn, self sacrificing brother.

SNDASNDASNDASN

Banished from Dean's room, Lydecker walked around the house and learned its layout. Then he took his life in his hands and tracked down Alec. The transgenic was in the back yard, his back toward him, using his Manticore taught skills to rig a booby-trap for any unwanted guests. "Maybe you think it was a …cowardly thing, what Dean did. But it wasn't. Your brother did it to save others, to save the people that you care about: Max, the other transgenics in Terminal City."

"Hero Dean," Alec snidely praised. "Just what I wanted, a hero for a brother. So he tried to kill himself, that's no big deal if, in the end, he saved the day, right?"

Lydecker leaned back against a tree, his eyes on the taunt posture of the kid that he knew so well, that he had come to care about more than any of the others, even Max. "The end justifies the means. That's what the military taught me, what it taught Dean's father."

"And you passed it unto me and John Winchester passed it onto Dean, and probably Sam too. Wow, you both should be so proud of your legacies," Alec glibly mocked, but the look he sent over his shoulder to Lydecker held condemnation.

"I'm proud. I'm sure John would be too." Lydecker watched in some satisfaction as Alec's expression darkened before he finished his thought. "But not because you three follow our rules…but because you don't. You each have the strength to be better men, better than I am, better than John was. That's a legacy to be proud of."

"Excuse me while I wipe the tear from my eye," Alec lightly smart-alecked back as he finished his task. But when he faced Lydecker, every trace of the counterfeit humor that he had radiated a second ago was gone. "You were supposed to keep Dean safe." The cold words of accusation proving that Alec still posed a threat to Lydecker, that Alec was fighting hard to not rain down retribution on his former commander for all the hurt heaped on his brother.

"I tried…I didn't…" Lydecker stopped himself, could see Alec wasn't going to let him off with some stammered half formed apology. "You have no reason to believe me, I know that, but I did what I could to keep him safe. When I found him bleeding out, realized what he had done…I was going to get him out of there anyway I could. I was going to put a gun to Boris' head if I had to."

"Because underneath all that cold-heartedness beats the heart of a boy scout leader, right?" Alec sneered, not even trying to make nice, to hide the fury he felt at the cold retelling of Dean's suicide attempt.

"I can't make amends for what I've done in the past. I know that. But things…they weren't as black and white then, or now. I protected you the best I could Alec. And I tried to protect your brother. I'm risking my life by being here right now." Not seeing a lifting of the anger shifting across Alec's features like a nor'easter, he pointed out, "I let you and Sam live. I helped you get Dean back. Doesn't that earn me some level of trust?"

"I haven't killed you. Yet. I think that's showing you more trust than you deserve," Alec warningly volleyed back. Then he brushed by Lydecker, headed back to where he belonged, had always belonged, with his true family.

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Alec found that Sam too had been busy. He had stripped Dean down to his boxers, had a fan blowing over him and a wet towel covering Dean's torso, had taken every measure to reduce Dean's fever. As grim as the scene was, Alec couldn't hold back a bittersweet smirk as he entered Dean's room bearing a bowl of broth. Apparently great minds thought alike because Sam was busy trying to coax Dean to drink some water.  
When Dean pushed his hand away again, sloshed more water on both of them and the bed, Sam sighed. "Ah, Dean. Come on, just a small slip. You're safe. You're with us."

"No," Dean weakly refused, turning his head so he wouldn't have to look at the fake Sam, wouldn't be tricked into giving Boris what he wanted: his cooperation.

Sensing Alec's presence, Sam looked up at his brother, gave a shadow of his usual smile at Alec's offering of soup. "Hope you have better luck than I've been having." And then he gave up his cherished spot at Dean's side, conceded it to Alec.

His optimism bolstered by Sam's show of trust in him, Alec was unable to keep a genuine smile from breaking across his lips. Reaching out, he gave Sam a pat on the chest as he claimed a spot on Dean's bed. "Dean," he quietly beckoned, but Dean didn't react, kept his face averted from him. "Hey, I slaved in the kitchen for you so the least you can do is look at me," he gently entreated. He feared that Dean wasn't going to totally shut him out when Dean slowly rolled his head, gave him his wary eye contact.

Filling a spoon with soup, Alec lowered the spoon toward Dean's tightly closed mouth. "It'll feel good on your throat, I swear." But his brother's eyes, though dull, were resolute as they watched him guardedly. Clearly his big brother wasn't buying what he was selling.

Not having the heart to use force to get Dean to eat, Alec sat the soup bowl on the night stand. Fiddling with the loose string of the bed comforter, he couldn't bring himself to face Dean..or even Sam as he began to talk. "Manticore raised me to believe that caring for people made you weak, treating people…well, like people was the worst thing a soldier could do. The mission objective, that was the only thing that was supposed to matter. And they," here he gave a bitter snort of laughter. "They could be inventive to get you to believe that. One time in training, I went back to help a kid, an X7 that had fallen and broken his leg. Well my training officer, he broke the kid's other leg, was going to _shoot_ the kid if I didn't go back to my position. Manticore told me, over and over again, that if a mission failed because of me, because of something I did or did not do, I might as well just kill every member in my unit, execute them all by my own hand." When he looked up, he realized that Dean was looking at him, really looking at him, like he was someone real that he was seeing.

"So I know Manticore has no mercy, that they know how to twist things around, to make doing the wrong thing seem right, seem like the only thing you _can_ do. I fell for their lies…right up to the end," he bitterly admitted, his smirk painful and dark. "And with you, their objective was to break you, Dean. They thought if they took away your family, you would comply. That if they catered to your ego, said how useful you were, you would give them what they wanted. They thought if they hurt you enough…" Alec swallowed hard, hated to think of Dean being tortured, of needles puncturing his spinal cord, "you would beg for mercy."

Dean quickly looked away, wanted to stop imaginary Alec's corny scripted dialogue that was right out of a soap opera. Begging didn't sound like such a bad thing right then, begging to be strong enough to hold out against Boris' tests, to not get too lost in his own mind, to get too attached to his brothers' visitations that he forgot to fight, forget why he was fighting.

Suddenly Boris' dark prediction rang through his mind.

"_That's what your defiance will lead to, more transgenics being put down like rabid animals. If you think you're saving them…you're condemning them. If we could get this vaccine perfected, you would be saving transgenic lives."_

Lies, all of it. Wasn't it? He was doing the right thing, wasn't he? Saving lives by his actions, his refusal to concede to Boris? '_Every time you try to save someone that you love you end up condemning them. Why should this time be any different?' _he bitterly thought.

Plagued by doubt, he rolled away from the mirage of his brother, tried to shut out the excuses that Alec was making for his weakness, the words he thought had come from Sam earlier "_You don't have to always be the hero, Dean_." They were telling him to give up, were giving him their permission to give up, that it was OK to let Boris _win._

When his brother looked away from him, Alec knew he had hit a painful chord in Dean. He was cowardly contemplating halting his words when Dean rolled over, turned his back on him, shut him out. Crap but that hurt. Hurt worse than anything Manticore had ever done to him, could even dream of doing to him. Ready to flee, to spare Dean his presence, he looked up when a hand settled on his shoulder, prevented him from getting off the bed, leaving Dean.

"Keep talking to him, Alec," Sam directed, his voice quiet but there was a thrum of hope in the timbre.

"Sam I…he doesn't…" Alec stuttered, didn't want to hurt Dean more than he already had.

But Sam's eyes were full of belief, in him. "You're reaching him, Alec. What you're saying, he's hearing it, reacting to it. Keep going."

Swallowing the constriction in his throat, Alec turned away from Sam's trust, instantly felt roadblocked by Dean's back. Encouraged by Sam's belief, if not his own, that what he was doing was doing more good than harm, he leaned over Dean's back, saw that Dean's eyes were clamped shut, that his breathing was harsh, labored, as if he were being chased, was trying to outrun something, someone.

Reaching around Dean, Alec covered Dean's fisted hand with his own. "But they couldn't break you because you refused to let people down, to put Max and Joshua and the others in TC in jeopardy," Alec's voice was gentle but full of pride. "And now, you think this isn't real, that Sam's not real, that I'm not, that there's nobody left to fight for. You think that there's no one that you need to protect anymore so you can just give up."

Leaning farther over Dean, Alec tightened his grip on Dean's fist, drew Dean deeper into his one armed hug. "Well you're wrong, Dean. You think that the only one that you are hurting by giving up, by letting yourself die is you…well, think again," his tone almost strident in its intensity. "Hurting yourself, I know that's second nature to you. So how about if we up the ante? How do you feel about me getting hurt, Dean?" Alec darkly demanded, felt some measure of satisfaction when Dean's eyes opened, when Dean's breathing hitched in his chest.

Though he feared it was the worst thing he could do, Alec forcibly rolled Dean onto his back, pinned Dean's shoulders to the bed, brutally demanded Dean's full attention. And he got it, though there was a sliver of fear in the green eyes nearly identical to his own. "You want to hurt yourself, want to give up, to die. Fine. We'll do it together." Dean's eyes widened at the threat but he lay still as if he feared to react, to show weakness. "If you don't drink anything, well then I don't drink anything. You don't eat, I don't eat. You don't take any painkillers then I don't take any Tryptophan," Alec adamantly vowed. Pulling out a pill bottle from his pocket, he sat it on the nightstand beside the refused soup with a determined thunk. "You're my big brother and I know you would never do anything to hurt me, right? So dying, if that's what you think is our best option, then I'm good with it."

Wherever Sam saw Alec's prep speech going, it wasn't to this ultimatum. "What?"

But Alec didn't pay Sam any mind, watched as Dean licked his lips, rolled his head to look at the Tryptophan pill bottle on the nightstand before settling back upon him. "You're not real. You're dead."

"I am _real. _ I'm not dead," Alec insisted fervently and then, a second later, he forced himself to give a careless shrug of his shoulders. "But whether or not I stay alive, that's up to you now, Dean."

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"This is just a bluff, right? You're not really serious?" Sam hissed, keeping his voice low so it wouldn't reach Dean in the bedroom two doors down.

Alec's body went taut at Sam's implication. "You think I would lie to Dean," he challenged with quiet menace.

"No, no, I .." Sam stammered, knew he wasn't handling this right. Sighing he tried again. "I understand what you're trying to do, I do, but I'm not sure….is this the best way?"

Though some of the tension fled from Alec, his determination didn't waver for an instant. "You want to strap him down, force feed him, stick him with more needles? Do to him what Manticore just did?"

"No, of course not but…"

"Three days, Sam. He hasn't had a drink or any food for _three days!_" Alec bluntly pointed out, but his voice caught. He couldn't be clinical about this, not when it was Dean.

For all the injuries, spells, and illnesses Sam knew how to treat, this particular medical ordeal wasn't one of them. "How long…what happens…"

"It starts with dizziness, confusion, heart palpitations and goes to …" Alec haltingly began to answer, his own churning emotions uncovered as the list grew, "fever over 100, difficulty breathing, abdominal pains…seizures. "

Sam paled as Alec ticked off the symptoms, was far from comforted by the fact that Dean had all but the last two. He didn't have to ask what came after that. Something drastic had to be done, he saw that now. He just wasn't sold that Alec's plan was it. "Ok, we need to get Dean eating, drinking, I get that. But Alec, if Manticore finds us here, we're going to need all hands on deck. We're already down Dean, if you weaken yourself, we'll be down you too. I'm good but I'm not Rambo. I can't hold off a trained assault team all by myself."

Alec couldn't help smile at the mental image of Sam bare-chested with a belt of bullets slung across his chest and a red bandana around his forehead. "Don't sell yourself short, Sam. If you drop your voice a little lower, do some grunt talking and we track down a machine gun for you…"

Sam gave a scoffing laugh at his brother's sense of humor. "You're as bad as Dean."

"Thanks," Alec smiled widely at the compliment before he got serious again. Meeting Sam's eyes, he hoped his brother could see his conviction. "Number one: you wouldn't be alone, you'll have Lydecker."  
"Great, the guy we don't trust…" Sam muttered under his breath.

"Two: Come on, this is me. I would never be totally useless in a fight," Alec cockily assured before moving onto his next point. "Three: I don't think we have a lot of options left here Sam. Force Dean to drink or convince him to drink, get him to believe that we're alive, that he's with us or stand around and watch him let himself die."

At Alec's bluntness Sam bit his lip and looked away. Couldn't there ever be an easy solution for them? Why did he have to risk Alec to save Dean? '_Because you're a Winchester,_' came to him bitterly before he faced Alec, accepted that, risking everything for each other? That was part of who his family was, who Alec was. "At least tell me you took your Tryptophan today already?"

At Sam's capitulation to his plan, Alec happily patted Sam two times on the chest and walked out of the room.

"You did, right?" Sam called, trailing behind Alec, who still wasn't answering him. "Alec," he commanded but Alec didn't even slow down his headlong pace right back to Dean's side. Left alone in the hallway, Sam clenched his jaw and slammed his hand against the wall. Having two reckless jerks for brothers was going to give him a heart attack at a young age, he just knew it.

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TBC

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Have a great evening!

Cheryl W.


	17. Chapter 17: What Matters Most pt 9

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

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Chapter 17 – What Matters Most – part 9

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Alec had seen the after effects of Manticore's testing before, on other transgenics, on himself, but seeing the needle puncture wounds, the deep bruising down Dean's spine, it was _personal_ in ways it never was before. There was no moral dilemma, no indecision on whether or not Manticore was justified in its actions. There could be no justification, not for hurting Dean, for treating him like his life was without value. '_Like they could whip another one of him up in a Petri dish, like they could me.' _He didn't think that there were words to describe hatred that raged this strongly, for indignation that ran as deep as his did.

Unknowingly, Alec's hand had curled into a fist, had broken the ice cubes in the washcloth he held. It was the feel of water dripping down his hand that brought him out of his haze, allowed him to take a breath, to quiet the storm in him. Sitting on the bed, Dean's back to him again, though this time his brother's position was at his prodding, he had lifted his brother's shirt, had thought himself prepared…but when was anyone ever prepared to see undeniable proof that someone that they loved had been hurt? '_Never_,' Alec answered, still felt new to feelings, to family, to love but knew this instinctively.

Striving to be gentle, he quietly said, "This is gonna be cold" hoped Dean was cognizant enough to understand his warning. But when he rested the washcloth against the darkest bruising, Dean jerked at the contact anyway. Curling a hand around Dean's hip, Alec sought to steady the other man with his touch as well as with his words, "This should take down some of the swelling, make lying on your back a little more bearable." He hadn't missed the pain in Dean's eyes when he had rolled him over, pinned his back to the bed. "Still, you probably won't want to sack out on a vibrating bed anytime soon," he added, trying to draw some small familiar reaction from Dean.

Hands curled around the edge of the mattress, teeth gritted together to fight down the cry of pain, Dean couldn't appreciate the humor his hallucination was throwing his way. Instead when he opened his mouth it was to let slip another admission. "I would take that over being strapped down to another metal table."

Unprepared for such frankness from Dean, Alec barely had the breath to exhale, "I know." And he did. He knew personally how terrifying it was to be strapped down, to be helpless. How cold the metal table was, like death itself was reaching for you. And then came the pain. There were never the straps without the pain. "I swear Dean, that'll never happen again."

"Wow, what a relief, a promise from a _hallucination_. I know I feel better. You were more believable in the van, when you were pissed at me…calling me stupid."

"What? When? I never…"Alec protested before falling silent, realized just how vivid Dean's hallucinations were. Dean had seen him before…when he wasn't there. Heard him say things he didn't say. It was no wonder Dean couldn't trust that this was real, that he was. Swallowing, knowing that he had to mark the difference for Dean. "I wasn't there Dean, it wasn't me. But I'm here now and if me yelling at you will get you to believe it's really me…" but he couldn't threaten Dean, couldn't even pretend to. "I'll have to give you a raincheck," he backed down, felt the tremor in his words. '_I can't do it when I'm so grateful that you're alive, that we're together.'_

Dean stilled at the other's words, at the vulnerability in them. That sounded like Alec too, the brother that was so pissed when he found out he had made the crossroad's deal that he left him high and dry in a helicopter and yet, later, wouldn't leave his side in the medic unit even if a bomb threat was called in. His youngest brother was stubbornly strong most of the time and yet heartbreakingly fragile other times. '_It's not Alec. It's not Alec. Alec is dead_,' he told himself, again and again, had to because if he let himself believe the lie…Boris' prediction would come true, he would trade reality for some fantasy where his brothers were alive, where they had gotten free of Manticore…and the sky was not cloudy all day.

Repositioning the washcloth to a new section of bruised flesh, Alec didn't know if Dean's silence was a good thing or not. His past experience with Dean said that it wasn't, that it never was. He had watched Sam try to break Dean's stoic wall of silence before, knew that it was a herculean task. A task he didn't think he was up to. Instead he focused on easing Dean's physical pain.

Dean tightened his grip on the mattress, couldn't hold back a groan of pain as the cloth slid over a sensitive patch of skin on his spine.

At Dean's reaction, Alec stilled his actions, closed his eyes, wished that he could do something helpful, do something other than hurt Dean further. "I'm sorry," he exhaled in anguish and the worst part of it was, Dean didn't reply, didn't absolve him, didn't say anything at all.

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Having traded up the catering van for a SUV, Sam entered the house. He didn't know if the deathly quiet that welcomed him was a good sign or not.

"Alec is with him," came Lydecker's voice from his left.

It wasn't the most encouraging sight to Sam, Lydecker sitting at the table, cleaning a gun, handling the weapon with such cold proficiently. As much as Lydecker had done for them, Sam still wasn't sure what the man had done to them, to Dean. Alec's former commander was the wild card in their deck and the odds were already against them. But his father had taught him how to play cards and Dean had taught him how to bluff his way through any hand dealt his way.

So Sam didn't let his unease show, didn't give Lydecker one insight into his head. Instead he sat the grocery bag on the table and asked one of a thousand questions that had been swirling through his head during his errands. "Can Boris complete the serum with the results he has?" And his question was so NOT about protecting the transgenics in TC.

Eyes narrowed at the surprising inquiry, Lydecker replied with confidence, "No. Not without the results from the test that they were taking Dean to today. That would be the link Boris needed to connect his findings, to synthesize a viable serum."

Sam's chest tightened at the news. "He will want Dean back," he quietly stated but his dread was loud and clear.

Meeting Sam's eyes unflinchingly, Lydecker confirmed, "Yes." Even when he had stopped hunting the transgenics, when Manticore had fallen to its knees after their largest facility had been breached and burned to the ground, he knew that others would hunt the transgenics, that they would always be hunted. And now Alec's brother had that same bulls-eye on his back.

Biting his lip, Sam nodded as if it confirmed what he already knew. Pulling some cans out of the grocery bag, he turned around and sat them on the kitchen countertop. But a second later, he angrily swiped them to the floor, couldn't bottle up his frustration, his worry.

"Well he's never getting his hands on Dean again," Alec darkly promised as he entered the room, offering Sam the same vow he had Dean. His brother would not go through this again, being strapped down to a metal table, being tested, being tortured in the name of science.

Alec hadn't wanted to intrude on Sam's conversation, hadn't wanted to hear Lydecker's answer, thought about scampering away when he did but then Sam reacted. And Sam's pain, it gave him the strength to step up to the plate, to be strong, not only for Dean but for Sam too.

"How is he?" Sam immediately asked, his eyes holding Alec's gaze, wanted the truth even as he prayed that he could handle it. Walking out of the house to run the vital errands, being out of contact for an hour, not knowing how Dean was every second of that hour, during all that time he hadn't been able to draw in a full breath. Now he found that he still couldn't draw in even one as he waited for Alec's answer.

Shying away from Sam's question, from the worry in his brother's eyes, Alec slipped by Sam and went to the cupboard, then the refrigerator, took his sweet time filling a glass with the newly purchased Pedialyte. "Same," he lowly provided, wished he was making progress, that he wasn't failing spectacularly reaching Dean, wished that he didn't feel Sam had all this misplaced faith in him, in the connection he thought he and Dean shared. When he swung around and Sam stepped in front of him, cut off his escape, he thought he was going to have to account for his failures, that Sam would call him on the carpet for promising one thing and delivering nothing. He nearly flinched when Sam reached out, but his brother's hand, it didn't touch him.

Sam slid his hand around the glass Alec held. "Take a break, Alec. I'll sit with him for awhile," he said, kept his tone light, as if it were an offer that Alec had the option to refuse. But it wasn't. As much as he told himself it was about taking care of Alec, giving Alec a break, he knew it was borne out of something more selfish. He needed to be with Dean, to have just a few moments alone with Dean, to have the luxury of breaking down without witness.

Feeling as if Sam had found him incompetent, and rightly so, Alec numbly released the glass into Sam's hold. He stepped back, would not plead his case to Sam. How could he when Sam was right. He wasn't up to the task.

Correctly reading the emotions flickering in Alec's eyes, Sam sighed in pained frustration. But the frustration, it was in himself, not in Alec. "I'm not blaming you, Alec. I'm just…." Sam shook his head, not certain if he couldn't put his emotions into words or simply couldn't bring himself to admit them aloud. He was desperate, frustrated, terrified, lost, all things that he shouldn't be. Big brothers were supposed to be strong, to have all the answers. Or make the answers up as they went along like Dean did.

Alec could see the emotional edge Sam was on, that Sam's world was as close to shattering as it had ever been. And he wasn't helping. "We both are," he quietly admitted, saw some of the emotions temper in Sam's eyes at his admission, at the knowledge that, what Sam was feeling, he felt it too. That neither of them were alone.

Instead of verbally replying, Sam crossed over to the refrigerator, yanked the milk bottle out and shoved it into Alec's chest. "Then don't make it worse for me," he growled, the desperation in his eyes plain enough for Alec to see. Without waiting for Alec to take hold of the bottle or respond, Sam turned away, headed back upstairs. When he didn't hear the sound of the milk bottle bouncing off the kitchen floor, he hoped that at least one of his brother's was going to see reason.

Lydecker hadn't moved, had barely breathed as he witnessed the brotherly exchange. He couldn't help fear that he would become the object of an attack, that any moment they might consider him to be the enemy lurking in their midst. He felt almost relieved when Sam left.

Left alone with Alec, Lydecker studied the transgenic, detected something _off_ in the young man. And it was more than the haunted pain in the green eyes, the tension in the lean frame. Though Alec had easily managed to grab the milk bottle before it fell, the way he had moved, though fast for a human, had been slow for a transgenic. Used to diagnosing any oddities in the transgenics, specially the X series ones, it didn't take him more than a second to figure it out.

"I put your bottle of Tryptophan in the case with the weapons. I thought you saw it?" Worry was evident in Lydecker's tone as he came to his feet, stepped toward Alec. If anyone knew this particular defects in his "kids" he did. Without daily Tryptophan or a supplement ….well, he didn't allow himself to think about what would happen. He had laid awake nights after Max's unit had escaped, wondering just how many would die seizing, never knowing how to save themselves, that the cure was something as simple as a glass of milk.

Without meeting Lydecker's eyes, Alec lowly replied, "I found the bottle," before he put the milk away, shut the refrigerator door with resolute force. When he turned around, came under Lydecker's appraisal, he stood taller, daring his former commander to call him on the carpet, to pretend he took orders from him anymore. He didn't flinch away when Lydecker reached out, passively allowed the man to take hold of his wrist, to lift his hand up for inspection.

Lydecker could see it, the minute trembling in Alec's fingers tips, almost imperceptible …to anyone not looking for it. Head snapping up to Alec, he demanded, "If you have the pills, why aren't you taking them? We told you…"

"That we need them or we'll die," Alec briskly recalled Manticore's version of health class. How to kill undetected, how to main, how to survive extreme conditions in nature, how to keep their bodies at their fittest for the sake of the mission.

"That wasn't a lie…" Lydecker began, could understand Alec's distrust of every single thing Manticore said but the kid had to accept this particular piece of wisdom or….Well that wasn't going to happen.

Alec gave a humorless laugh and smiled darkly. "Oh, I know that." He could still remember Sam there witnessing his seizures, the way Sam had held him..not so differently than he had been holding Dean earlier. Sam helping him gulp down some milk until he could take the cup himself. And he would never forget the look in Dean's eyes when he found them both on the floor, when Dean realized that he was the one in trouble. Alec had not had such a look of honest worry directed his way before.

The memory sent pain shafting through Alec's chest. He wasn't helping Dean like Dean had helped him, wasn't able to return the favor, to make Dean realize what he had learned in that moment almost a year ago: that someone cared about him, hurt because he hurt, that he wasn't alone anymore.

Confusion marred Lydecker's features…until bleak understanding replaced it. Dean wasn't the only one willing to die, to sacrifice his life out of loyalty. '_Out of love_,' Lydecker qualified, knew that, what Alec was doing, it went beyond loyalty, that it wasn't merely a means to an end. It was the action of a man who would rather die than let someone that he loved be taken away from him. That if Dean choose to die, then so would Alec.

Lydecker didn't have any reference for that, didn't have any arguments against it either. He was too in awe of such a measure of love, too humbled by it. If anyone still doubted that a transgenic had a soul, had the heart, the capacity for compassion, for love, they had never met Alec, had never seen him with his brothers.

Ripping his hand from Lydecker's hold, Alec bit out. "Check the southern perimeter, I'll check the northern." Then he began to stalk for the door.

"There was something else in your pocket," Lydecker quietly called out, glad that Alec stopped, turned around to see what he held in his hand. Surprise and pain and hope registered in the transgenic's eyes as he came forward, took back what was his. "They gave your clothing to 492 but I…I took this back."

Alec stared down at the embossed 'Chevy Impala' keychain, the one that he had bought for Dean for Christmas. He had been so proud of his find, was so immersed in the anticipation of Dean's reaction that he had shut out everything else, didn't see Manticore's attack until they made it. But having the keychain returned to him, as much as it reminded him that he couldn't stop being a soldier, couldn't let his feelings overshadow everything, it also felt like a sign that Dean would get better, that he would get the chance to give it to Dean and see his brother's eyes light up, that they could still be a family.

Looking up to Lydecker with gratitude, Alec said hoarsely, "Thank you," before he left the Manticore commander standing alone in the kitchen.

Lydecker felt his own emotions tack higher. Alec's gratitude, it wasn't just about a returned trinket, was about his actions, that he had spared Alec and Sam, had helped the brothers get Dean free. It was amazing and humbling, that Alec not only had this fierce love for two men he considered his brothers but that he also had such a heart of forgiveness, was willing to forgive him, to allow him to repent for his past sins.

'_But only the sins I've committed against him_,' Lydecker silently clarified, knew that, if he brought any harm to Alec's brothers, there would be no forgiveness for such a grievous sin. It wasn't an encouraging thought, that his survival was still tangled in with the three men because, though Alec had always managed to find trouble, Alec's "brothers" seemed to take that pastime to a whole new level.

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No matter how many times Sam had seen Dean hurt, no matter how many bouts of Dean suffering through an illness he had witnessed, he always felt the same fear, the same pain, the same rush of affection. And the same determination: to not lose his brother, to make things better for Dean, to find a way to comfort Dean the way Dean always managed to comfort him.

Taking a careful seat on the bed, he was rewarded with Dean's eyes fluttering open. But the green gaze was duller than before, didn't acknowledge him as much as watch him, like a play on a stage, for his entertainment…for his torture. Reaching out with his free hand, he touched Dean's forehead, could feel the heat Dean's body was generating before he made contact. Dean didn't flinch away from his mother hen touch, didn't grouse 'get off me dude', didn't even blink.

Sliding his hand down to cup Dean's neck, Sam stroked his brother's cheek with his thumb. "Hey," he greeted, didn't really expect a response but wanted one.

"Hey," Dean croaked out, had resolved that he might as well make nice with his hallucinations. They were there to stay, were his reality now. At least he wasn't dying alone, even if company he had was only in his head.

Eyes widening at the reply, Sam leaned down closer to Dean, hope glistening in his eyes. "Dean?"

"You haunting anyone else?" Dean snarked back, a shadow of his usual smirk on his face.

Sam bowed his head at his brother's words, at what they implicated. He was still relegated to a figment of Dean's imagination. Gathering his barriers again, he raised his head, met Dean's eyes. "No, you're stuck with me," not having the heart to argue.

Pulling back, Sam poured some of the Pedialyte on a spoon, looked up from his task to see that Dean was watching him guardedly. "It's grape flavored," he explained as he lowered the spoon to Dean's mouth but Dean's lips were a fortress. "Come on, Dean? What sadistic scientist would make any of their concoctions _grape flavored_?"

Dean's eyes said he wasn't buying it.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Sam groused, "Fine. I'll be your taste tester." Putting the spoon in his mouth, he downed the Pedialyte…and promptly made a face. "Aw that's bad. You're the one that likes things grape flavored not me. Here…." offering another spoon full to Dean.

"Nice try.." Dean muttered, his lips nearly as tight as a ventriloquist's.

Furiously tossing the spoon onto the nightstand, Sam didn't care that the syrup splashed onto the floor and bed, that he sat the bottle on a large drop of the syrup when he stood up, towered over Dean. "I've tried to come at this from your point of view, to feel what you're feeling, to …to be gentle because I know…No, actually I don't even want to know what you've been through. But you're starting to piss me off, Dean."

Dean met his vision's anger with a cocky "Really," a challenge somewhere in the depths because that was always his reaction when Sam got like this. When Sam got angry with him, goaded him, tried to make him do something, feel something that he didn't want to.

Instead of being encouraged by Dean's show of spirit, Sam reacted like he always did when Dean didn't listen to his worry, didn't play things safe, didn't remember that, oh yeah, he was his brother and he didn't want to lose him. "Yeah, really. Another round of you thinking I don't need you, of you being worthless. I'm …I'm so over it."

"What are you going to do about it, Sam? You're not here. You're dead. You gave up the right to tell me what to do," Dean shot back, his fury at his brother's abandonment, of Sam's gall to die on him, shining through.

"Wrong," Sam fervently contested as he roughly latched onto Dean's fever hot skin and hauled his brother out of the bed. He caught Dean against his body before his brother tumbled to the ground when his legs refused to support his weight. But Sam didn't back down at the insidious proof of how weak Dean was, how far Dean's body was deteriorating. He was acting instinctively, was fighting to keep what he loved, just like Dean had taught him to do by example after example after example.

Pulling Dean's limp arm around over his shoulder and wrapping his own arm tightly around Dean's waist, he cinched Dean to him. Though he felt a pang of remorse when Dean moaned in pain as he jostled his back, he wasn't going to concede the battle. Not this one.

For the first few steps, Sam was practically dragging Dean forward but then his brother's ego kicked in and Dean tried to get his feet under him. It proved that Dean was still in there somewhere, still knew how to fight.

Dean forced his unwilling legs to work, to support some of his weight. But he couldn't raise his head, was too tired for that. It felt like gravity was against him along with the rest of the world. As 'Sam' spoke, he could feel the words vibrate between them.

"Remember that time Dad got that concussion? He was bleeding all over the place and we had to keep him awake. You practically made him do a military march around the motel all night," Sam reminisced as he turned them around, paced back across the room. He remembered the fear that he had felt then, but it wasn't like his fear was now. '_The threat of_ _losing Dad never scared me like the thought of losing Dean._' And no matter how guilty he felt about the revelation, it didn't make it any less true. It was the reason he had survived his father's death but knew he would never survive Dean's.

Dean smirked at the memory of his father, his belligerence, the rumble of his voice by his ear. "Dad threatened me every single step."

"Yeah, he did," Sam quietly agreed, wished that Dean would show that level of fire right now. He wasn't prepared for Dean's legs to fumble, panicked as Dean almost slipped from his hold. Tightening his grip on Dean, ensuring that his brother didn't fall, he continued their trek around the room, refused to settle Dean back into the bed. Because doing that, if he gave up trying to reach Dean, he might as well be laying Dean down into his casket

"But you didn't stop hauling Dad around the room and you threatened to drag him outside, make him walk around without his coat in the 16º cold."

"12 degrees," Dean interjected, felt the chest he rested against inhale in frustration at being corrected.

Sam's irk at being corrected didn't surface. Instead he felt hope, Dean talking, Dean remembering things, it could mean that the haze of the drugs was abating. And like any devious little brother, he decided to use Dean's own big brotherly ego against him. "Oh right, the 12 degree Chicago weather."

"Maine," Dean huffed out, couldn't believe Sam, vision Sam, was being so forgetful.

"Right, Maine. And I was twelve and you were sixteen."

"Fourteen and eighteen. Geez Sam, I'm the one lacking in oxygen from blood loss and starvation."

Sam stilled at the blunt words, was infinitely glad that Dean didn't say 'I'm the one dying here.' '_But he might as well have…' _

Wanting to drown out his own traitorous thoughts, Sam put himself and Dean back into motion. "You didn't give up on Dad then and I'm not giving up on you now, Dean. It might be a balmy 34 degrees outside but the town's about twenty miles away, be quite the hike," he threatened, would do it if it got Dean to look at him as if he were his brother. "Christmas lights are up," he added, the words constricted. He remembered last year…thinking it would be Dean's last Christmas, would be their last Christmas together.

"Beer can wreaths?" Dean weakly asked, memories of last Christmas with Sam coming to his mind instead of the Christmas when their father had brought the wreath home.

Sam's answer was a choked, "No." He would not have Christmas without Dean, he wouldn't. "I'll make you one this year, use El Sol cans."

Dean smiled at the offer, "My favorite brand…"

"Really, hadn't realized that…" Sam returned with a sarcastically light tone.

"Liar," Dean accused. Stumbling, he reached out, fisted his hand in the fabric that felt like the soft cotton of a shirt, the shirt that he laid on in the van. The soft cotton of one of _Sam's _cowboy-like shirts. '_These hallucinations, they take 4D to a whole new level. Boris should give up the clone project, sell this drug on the black market, start the Tek revolution._"

Grabbing Dean's elbow, Sam steadied his brother before he bent down, looked into Dean's eyes to make sure that he was doing OK. When Dean's eyes met his own, something glittered in them, something that hadn't been there since they had gotten Dean back, since Dean had looked at him in the van. Something that Sam couldn't interpret. "Hey, you alright? Did I hurt you?"

Meeting Sam's eyes, Dean admitted, "Every time you leave," Silently he cursed, knew that the drug was loosening his tongue, making him compliant. Fearing what he would say next, what he would soon agree to, he tried to push away, to break free of the arms holding him.

Blindsided by Dean's admission, feeling his heart lurk in his chest at the truth he saw in Dean's eyes, Sam wasn't sure if he should offer up an apology for his past sins or a promise to never leave again. His indecision almost allowed Dean to squirm out of his grip. With more force than care, he re-secured his grip on Dean and yanked his brother against him, stilling Dean's feeble attempts of escape. "I'm not the one threatening to leave this time, Dean. You are."

Against Dean's will, Sam resumed their forced march around the room but when he spoke next, his voice was soft, gentle, careful. "Leaving isn't what you do, Dean. It might be how Dad and I dealt with things but it's not your way."

"Leaving's got to feel better than being left behind," Dean said, the pain of losing every member of his family making his words come out as a gasp of air.

Sam didn't have a comeback for that, not when he had done what he was begging Dean not to do: leave.

Whatever scene Alec thought he would walk into, he was stunned to see Sam frog marching Dean around the room. "What the …"

Head snapping up at his youngest brother's voice, Sam defended, "You have your methods, I have mine."

For a second, Alec almost protested but then he simply shrugged and claimed a seat for the show. Sam knew Dean better than anyone. If switching tactics, hauling Dean around the room would get decent results, who was he to object.

Even with Alec's interruption, Dean's words kept rattling around Sam's head. Looking down at Dean's bowed head as they traversed the room, he conceded, "Maybe you're right, maybe leaving is easier. But when have you ever done the easy thing, Dean? Especially when it would hurt other people? Hurt me? Hurt Alec? It's why you fought Boris. And it's why you haven't just laid down and died yet. Because in your heart, you can't stop hoping that this is real. You can't quit, not while you have even one percent of doubt that I'm here, that Alec is."

"Misplaced hope…I think I got a BS in it along with my GED," Dean mumbled back, raising his head, meeting the eyes that looked so real, so desperate.

Shaking his head, Sam sought to put certainty in his voice. "You'll stay with us, not because it's the easy thing to do but because you couldn't bear hurting either one of us."

But Dean didn't reply, didn't deny or confirm Sam's statement, simply let his head drop down again, rested his chin on his chest.

Needing some hope, Sam's eyes sought out Alec's, read worry in their depths. It was a toss up whether any of this was reaching Dean, whether they were breaking through Dean's walls, whether Dean was coming to believe that they were there, that he wasn't alone.

Without a word, Alec stood up, crossed to his brothers and helped Sam ease Dean back onto the bed. He watched as Sam swept the discarded towels off the floor, mumbled, "I'll get clean towels " and stalked out of the room.

Though Dean's eyes were closed, Alec knew that Dean was awake, was probably waiting for them all to leave him in peace. '_Not going to happen, big brother_.' "After that workout, I bet you're thirsty, even a bit hungry," he invited with over the top enthusiasm, which at least put him on the receiving end of a one eyed glare from Dean.

"I know you didn't ask, but I'm thirsty, I'm hungry enough to eat a horse," Alec announced as he roughly sank down on the bed and stretched out beside Dean, so close he was nearly on top of him. He ignored Dean's growl of irritation as the bed bounced when he moved around until he got his back almost comfortably resting against the headboard. If Sam could drag Dean out of bed, discard the cuddling stage of intervention, well then so could he.

"If you can't think about yourself, then think about me. I can't let this god-like physique fall into disrepair," Alec glibly pointed out, looked down and felt some small victory. Dean's lips were pulled up into a slight smirk.

Alec knew it would be dirty pool, to use Dean's own feelings against him, the fact that Dean cared about family, would do anything for his family, would go to any measures to take care of his family. But this was war and he was bred to be a soldier. "Me looking half dead, it would be a poor reflection on you…might tell people that you're not taking care of your family like you should." Feeling Dean stiffen at his insinuation, he had to bite his lip to not offer up an apology, to take it all back. '_Soldier, war, victory'_ he reminded himself but his next words were gentler than ever before. "We could start small, drink some water."

Water, it sounded like the best word, ever. But Dean knew it wasn't. Family, brothers, those were the best words, words worthy dying for. "Can't," he nearly whispered, not bothering to open his eyes.

Alec knew he shouldn't be disappointed by another failure, but he was. "You mean won't," he snapped back even as he reached down, gently rested his shaking hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Same thing," Dean conceded. Then he was talking before he made the conscious decision to say the words. "I can't let myself believe that you're here, that you and Sam didn't die…"

"But what if it is true, what if we're right here. I believed Manticore when they said Max was the enemy, didn't listen to what my heart was telling me. What's your heart telling you, Dean? Can you really take the chance of quitting when you might be letting Sam down, letting me down?"

"If I give in, if I choose to…live…Max could die..or worse. _Alec _would care about that," Dean leveled the accusation at the apparition, looked up at Alec, watched as the man's expression darkened.

Dean's accusation, his insinuation that he wasn't Alec, wasn't acting like Alec would, like Alec _should_, it struck Alec hard, right between the ribs. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do, Dean," he bleakly admitted, a hard edge to his tone. "I set the bomb under Berrisford's car, was going to _let_ Rachel die with him, for duty's sake. I don't think you know what I would sacrifice to save my family, I don't think you want to know.." Then he surged off the bed, nearly clipped Sam in the doorway in his haste to get away, to not face just how ruthless he could be to keep what he couldn't bear to lose.

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It was an hour later when Sam looked up to see Alec re-enter the room. Immediately Sam noticed two things: the anguish in his brother's eyes had abated a little from before AND Alec was shaking. Scowling, he sternly jerked his head toward the night stand, where a glass of milk and the Tryptophan pills sat.

Though Alec's eyes tracked Sam's gesture, he made no move toward the nightstand. Defiantly shaking his head, he claimed the other chair in the room. His heart clenched as he saw that Dean's eyes were closed, his brother's breath was coming out fast and Dean was doing some trembling of his own. He cursed himself for leaving earlier, for being gone so long. Looking across Dean, expecting a reprimand from Sam for his selfishness, for not being there, he saw only fear in Sam's expression.

Soon they would start to lose Dean by leaps and bounds.

Alec's focus shifted to Dean. Reaching out with an unsteady hand, he wrapped his fingers around Dean's forearm. He felt a flare of frustration that he was incapable of closing his hand tighter around Dean's arm, that he had little strength left in his muscles. He startled when a hand came to rest on his knees and he found Sam crouched down in front of him.

"We need to get Dean to a hospital," Sam announced, glad that Alec had returned, that the decision would not be his alone.

Numbly, Alec looked down as Sam pressed something into his hand: his bottle of Tryptophan.

Alec not meeting his eyes, it made things easier for Sam, allowed him to say the next words matter-of-factly, to pretend that the actions he was about to suggest were a forgone conclusion, it wasn't him _quitting_. "Take your pills and when you're up to helping me get Dean to the car, we'll go."

Sluggishly, Alec shook his head, met Sam's gaze. "Boris will be checking the hospitals…"

Closing his hand around Alec's, Sam stressed with a catch in his throat, "We're out of options, Alec. He's _dying_…"

"No," Alec refuted, trading up Sam's hopeless visage for Dean's pale one. "Dean wouldn't leave us."

Sam wanted to believe that, had clung to that hour after hour, for a year when Dean's deal was coming due. But sometimes, people did leave, sometimes people gave up, sometimes fate was stronger than love. "Like you said earlier, he's not really acting like Dean right now, Alec. He's confused, lost and …"

Swinging his look back to Sam, Alec insisted, "That's why we have to do this, have to bring him back."  
"How?" Sam's question came out soft, despairing. "We've begged him, we've threatened him, you've starved yourself, I've prayed myself hoarse…"

Jerking his hand from Sam's hold, letting the Tryptophan bottle fall to the floor, he fired back at Sam, "He just needs some more time, time for the antibiotics to neutralize more of the drug's effects," furious that Sam was folding, was giving up on Dean.

Sam grabbed Alec's shoulder almost painfully. "He doesn't have more time, Alec!" It made everything worse for Sam, seeing the heartbreak, the fear grow in Alec's eyes. "And soon neither will you," he gently stated as he scooped up the rejected pill bottle and held it out to Alec again. "Take the pills, drink some milk and then …"

"We'll take Dean to the hospital, say our goodbyes _there_?" Alec hoarsely shot back, a tear slipping free. "No," he emphatically bit out, reached up and broke Sam's hold on him and settled back stubbornly in the chair. "No. Dean will snap out of it."

"Alec.." Sam's voice cracking on his brother's name, his heart breaking at the sorrow that was taking over everything.

"You'll reach him…or I will. We'll tag team him," Alec tried for confidence, for lightness. "Please. We've been telling Dean to have faith in us, that we're real. But we have to have faith in Dean too, that he'll keep fighting, that he won't leave us, even if he thinks we're only alive in his head. Like you said, he's stayed this long…"

Sam cursed and looked away, his emotions powerless to contend with Dean's vacuity or Alec's pleading eyes. "One hour.." he warned, holding up his finger as he turned back to Alec. "Then we go."

"Two," Alec bartered, held his breath as he saw Sam's pending protest.

"Fine, two hours but you're taking your pills. Now," Sam countered but Alec's obstinate expression told him that he wasn't going to win the match. "Ok, at least drink some water, eat some food."

"Not until Dean does," Alec answered, waited for Sam's long-suffering nod before he settled into the chair to watch Dean. '_Don't make a liar out of me Dean. I have faith in you. Sammy and I both do. So don't let us down, huh. Keep fighting.'_

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Unexpected pain shafted through Dean's chest, jerking him out of the void. Suddenly, he wondered if he was having another heart attack, if Roy LeGrange's actions were being undone. He always knew he should have died two years ago maybe today the reaper was finally catching up with him.

But what he saw when he opened his eyes sent his worries about his own fate flying out the window. Alec was sitting in the chair by his bed, shaking so hard that his head was bobbing back and forth, his motions so near a convulsion that the chair was rattling under him.

"Swallow the pill, Alec!" Sam thundered, trying to force the pill through his brother's clamped lips. But Alec seemed to be putting all his strength into those particular facial muscles, had locked his jaw tighter than Fort Knox.

As Dean watched, Alec gave a parody of a shake of his head in denial. Alec's words came back to him, "_If you don't drink anything, well then I don't drink anything. You don't eat, I don't eat. You don't take any painkillers then I don't take any 're my big brother and I know you would never do anything to hurt me, right? So dying, if that's what you think is our best option, then I'm good with it."_

And Alec was being true to his word, was dying with him_._ "Alec?" Dean wheezed out through his own pain.

Sam and Alec's heads snapped toward Dean, shocked that Dean was breaching the nearly comatose state that he had fallen into almost an hour ago.

"Dean, hey you're back for the fun parts," Sam greeted with fabricated lightness, pretending that he wasn't about to shatter, that he didn't need his big brother's strength right then, that he could bear another round of denials from Dean.

"Pills," Dean mumbled, the acrid dryness of his mouth preventing the word from coming out as an order like he wanted it to. Letting his eyes drift to the Tryptophan pill bottle on the night stand and then back to Alec, he knew his message got through by the defiance that sprang to Alec's pained eyes.

"You…first," Alec parried, fighting to keep his head up, to keep his eyes on Dean. And for all the times that he had hid his pain away, this wasn't one of them. He _wanted_ Dean to see his pain, needed his brother to see it. Needed Dean to come back to them, to save himself, to save both of them. "Drink."

Helpless caught between an all out battle of wills between his brothers, Sam could do nothing but play his part. Standing up, he snagged the glass of water off the nightstand and sat down on the bed beside Dean. But Dean rolled his head away as the glass approached, choked out, "No."

Sam clenched his jaw so hard it hurt, had to put the glass down or he knew it would shatter in his grip. Ruthlessly he caught Dean's chin, forced his brother to face him. "Why can't you accept that we're real, that you didn't lose us? Do you want us to be gone so badly?"

"Too good…" Dean began, saw the change from rage to despair in the eyes that drilled into his own.

"To be true," Sam sadly finished, knew that way of thinking, had felt it when he was with Jess, when things were so normal, so safe. And he had been right, things were too good to be true. But so was having Dean standing by him all his life, getting a new little brother like Alec. Good things did happen to them, bad crap just happened to come along with all of it.

"Never thought anything…good would… happen…" Alec stammered, swallowed hard, fighting tooth and nail to get the words out, to make them understandable. "Until my brothers..showed up…to rescue me…like I was…was some…damsel in…distress."

"You were," Sam teased, found that another voice had simultaneously joined his own: Dean's.

Releasing Dean's chin, Sam rested his hand on Dean's chest, over his brother's heart. "That's part of your job, Dean. To rescue damsels in distress, to save your brothers when no one else can. And you can't just…_quit_," his voice cracking as a tear fell free, splashed on Dean's chest. "Not on us. You can't quit on _us_," the words seemingly torn out of Sam, more sob than sound.

Alec dropped his head, couldn't watch Sam break, knew, in his heart, that this was their last chance, that if they didn't reach Dean now, they never would. And he offered up a prayer to a God that he wasn't sure would even acknowledge him, not when he was just some cheap imitation of His creation.

Dean couldn't deny it any longer. He can _hear_ Sam's well of grief, could _see_ Alec's physical pain. It just wasn't in him to let his brothers suffer, no matter if it wasn't real, it they weren't real. It _felt_ real, their pain, his guilt and if he could stop it…he would risk everything, would condemn every transgenic left on the planet. That was just the kind of selfish person he was.

It nearly took more effort than Dean had to raise his hand off the bedding, to reach out for Sam's hand that was pressed to his chest. But he did it, curled his trembling fingers around Sam's wrist and held on.

Sam left out a shaking laugh. He knew what Dean's gesture meant. With one touch his brother had effectively closed up the gap between them, anchored them to each other. Reading the apology in Dean's eyes, he knew for certain that his big brother wasn't going anywhere.

Having conveyed to Sam that he wasn't quitting, couldn't quit, Dean turned to Alec. He felt shame and guilt and fear course through him at the shaking figure of his brother. Using his free hand he reached out, cupped the back of Alec's bowed, trembling neck.

Startled at the contact that he knew without a doubt was Dean's hand, Alec's head jerked up. Hope and need were brimming in his eyes as they met Dean's.

"Take the pills, Alec. Please," Dean beseeched, desperate to make things right, to save Alec, to undo the damage he had done to his youngest brother.

Praying that he wasn't misinterpreting the look in Dean's eyes, Alec quietly stipulated, his voice shaking, "You know the deal." And it was painful, waiting for Dean to answer. When Dean rolled his head away, Alec thought all was lost, until Dean spoke.

Facing Sam, Dean conceded with a smart aleck quip, "Only girls..can't handle…grape.…Sammy."

Smiling so wide that it nearly split his lips, Sam clumsily snatched the Pedialyte bottle off the nightstand with hands that were nearly as shaky as Alec's. Not bothering with the spoon, he put the bottle to Dean's lips.

Without protest, Dean took a sip.

Sam felt like breaking down, of sobbing out right as Dean swallowed, as his brother's throat worked, as Dean broke his fast, reneged on his suicidal pact.

A second later, choking slightly on the liquid, Dean sputtered "Crap, that tastes like a gym locker…" Then he weakly pushed the bottle away from his lips… and pushed it toward Alec. He rolled his head and steadily met Alec's pain filled but triumphant gaze. "Pills now or that's…all this stuff …I'm chugging down."

Shifting his position, Sam snagged the previously refused pills off the nightstand and faced Alec. His brother's seizures couldn't dampen the smile turning up Alec's lips. Certain that he was going to have to force Alec to accept his help, he was shocked when Alec compliantly opened his mouth and allowed him to drop the pills in. Alec didn't even try to hold the Pedialyte bottle as he poured some of the syrupy concoction down his throat.

Taking only enough of a swallow of the Pedialyte to get the pills down, Alec still couldn't fight back the grimace at the taste. But he deflected, "What? That didn't taste so bad…" Faced with Dean's doubtful look, he qualified, "It's better than Sam's version… of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."

"I didn't know the jelly was bad…" Sam protested, not really minding at all being the focus of his brothers' teasing. How he had missed it!

"Name a jelly that's …._supposed _to have green spots, Sam," Dean sarcastically drawled. When Sam glared at him and Alec gave a weak laugh, Dean knew that it didn't matter if it was a vision, whether it was real or not, he was staying with his brothers. Wherever they were, that was where he wanted to be. And no matter what he had to risk, he wasn't going to lose them again.

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TBC

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I'm in awe of the kind words you guys gave me for last chapter! Thanks! And thanks also for continuing to read this story!

Some of you might have noticed that I did make references to it being Christmas time. Well my assignment was to wrap this story up with a bow, literally. (Bhoney, I'm trying to keep my word!) But I hope you'll all forgive me if "Christmas for the Winchesters" doesn't land on the 25th of December, might creep over to January. I'll give it my best efforts but I'm always at the mercy of my muse.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	18. Chapter 18: What Matter Most pt 10

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

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Chapter 18 – What Matters Most – part 10

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It wasn't the first time Sam had been on the brink of losing his family. He could still taste the metallic fear in the back of his throat when he thought of that cabin, Yellow Eyes possessing his Father, ripping Dean apart from the inside out. And he had thought it had been the worst feeling, being pinned to that wall, baring witness to his brother's pain but unable to stop it. That was until today.

Standing at his family's side, fighting tooth and nail to survive against evil, that was a friggin' dance party compared to watching Dean surrender, knowing his brother _wanted_ to die, unable to convince Alec not to follow Dean down into downward spiral, two-faced as it was when he wanted to do the same thing, might have if Dean hadn't saved himself.

Dean had fallen silent after Sam had gotten him to take a few swallows of water, had just traded off watching Sam or watching Alec like they were the most riveting sight he had ever seen.

Maybe Sam would have teased Dean if he wasn't as obsessed about monitoring Dean's every breath, tracking each expression that flickered in his brother's green eyes, if he wasn't shooting his own worried looks to Alec, biting his tongue on asking if the pills were enough, were in time. He might even have felt like offering up a taunt if his big brother's fever would drop, if his little brother's shaking would abate, if Dean found the strength to protest him brushing a wet towel over his forehead, face and chest, if Alec groused out a smart aleck complaint about him gaping at him. As it was Dean endured the touch, even welcomed it if his small sigh was any indication and Alec didn't take his eyes off Dean, barely seemed to register that he was in the room with him.

When Dean started to fight in earnest to keep his eyes open, Sam suggested softly, "Why don't you get some sleep."

Panicked at the idea of closing his eyes, Dean struggled to sit up, to wake the heck up. There was still the possibility that none of this was real, that his brothers weren't real, that he could wake up and they would both be gone. When Sam's hand came to rest on his chest, pushing him back down on the bed, his breath quickened and he lowly gasped out, "No," refusing to forfeit even a second that he had with his brothers.

Though he had seen the flash of fear crossing Dean's features, Sam wasn't expecting Dean to try and sit up, to panic when he pressed him back onto the bed. Dropping the wet towel, he laid his hand on the side of Dean's neck and gave a reassuring squeeze. "Just take small breaths Dean," he instructed calmly, fighting to keep in check his own fears that were threatening to match Dean's. But Dean's agitation seemed to climb and the heartbeat that thrummed under Sam's hand raced faster.

Guessing the culprit for Dean's panic, Alec promised, as he reached out, wrapped his quaking hand around Dean's bicep, "We're not going anywhere." When his brother's eyes jerked to him, there was hope and fear mingled in their depths. "You can close your eyes. We'll be here when you wake up."

"You gonna promise me?" Dean tried to joke even as he knew he was holding out for just that, a promise, some guarantee that he wasn't going to wake up to the world he had in Manticore, a world where his brothers were dead.

But Alec's reply, the look in his eyes was all sincerity. "Yeah, I promise."

And it was enough, that promise, to allow Dean to surrender to the exhaustion, to allow his eyes to shut, to welcome sleep.

Amazed and a little jealous of Alec's influence over Dean, Sam straightened, removed his hand from Dean's chest. Unpredictably Dean gave a startled hitch of his breath, shuttered, and struggled to resurface from sleep. "Hey, hey, I'm right here, Dean. I haven't gone anywhere," Sam soothed, but it wasn't until he placed his hand back onto Dean's chest that his brother stilled and his breath evened out. Sam's heart clenched at the proof that Dean wanted, needed both he and Alec there to feel safe, to let down his guard, to believe that things would be alright when he woke up again. And it was so _Dean_, daring to make himself vulnerable enough to admit that he needed his family. "We need you too Dean, even more than you need us," Sam nearly whispered, wished Dean was awake to hear it, wished more that Dean would see it for what it was, the unvarnished truth.

Sam didn't move, his eyes didn't leave Dean, not until Dean's breathing evened out, not until the heartbeat under his hand adopted a slower rhythm. Certain that Dean was Ok, was asleep deep enough that he wouldn't wake if he removed his touch, Sam still hesitated to break the connection with his brother. Looking to Alec, he noted that Alec hadn't removed his hand from around Dean's arm either, nor did his eyes stray from their locked position on Dean.

Sam didn't personally know what it meant to be a momma's boy, but he had a sneaky suspicion that he and Alec would be classified as big brother's boys, that, to other people, their attachment to Dean would be unsettling. '_But they don't live our lives, haven't watched Dean nearly die, heck actually __die__ a hundred times. They haven't fought as hard to stay together, to be a family as we have. No one has. And we're keeping what we got. __I'm __keeping what I got, two reckless, self sacrificing, awesome brothers.'_

Determined to do just that, Sam slowly lifted his hand from Dean's chest, and to his relief, Dean didn't react, kept sleeping. Then he turned his attention to his other brother who was trying to downplay his own pain, the jeopardy his own life had been in, maybe was still in. "How are you doing?" he asked, hoped it came out gentle, non judgmental, that Alec would open up to him, without the need of a truth serum.

Without breaking his dogged scrutiny of Dean, Alec answered. "Great," a wave of contentment evident in his voice even as it shook in time with his body's quaking. He startled when Sam's hand cupped the side of his neck and his eyes flew to Sam in surprise.

"You're still seizing," Sam gently pointed out, knew that Alec's 'great' was Alec's reaction to Dean's improved wellbeing, not his own.

Alec almost brushed Sam's concern off. In the scheme of things, a few seizures were a cheap price to pay for what they had gained. Until he saw the look in Sam's eyes, knew that, Sam didn't take his pain lightly, anymore than he took Dean's pain lightly. "Takes awhile for the pills to kick in," he assured, though in truth, he had never gone this long without the pills or a supplement before.

Sam's eyes hardened. "You mean it takes awhile since you've gone so long without the pills."

Stubbornly, Alec met Sam's reprimanding stare in silence. He would not apologize for what he did, not when it had helped them get Dean back to the land of the living.

Sam sighed and shook his head, could see that Alec wasn't sorry for his actions, not anymore than Dean ever was for his reckless heroic actions. It was both reassuring and terrifying to know that he wasn't going to be changing either one of them. Not in the near future, anyways.

Unable to stay mad at Alec for his selfless actions, Sam stood up and slipped his arm under Alec's elbow, gently bid, "Let's get you to the other room so you can lie down."

The green eyes that snapped up to meet his own were forged in stone. "No."

"Yes, Alec," Sam lightly enforced, giving a pull to Alec's arm.

Releasing his grip on Dean's arm to grab Sam's, Alec arrested Sam's motions. "No," he emphatically refused but then his next words were more entreaties than commands. "Not yet, OK." And he couldn't help but look to Dean, to make sure his brother hadn't worsened in the seconds his attention had been diverted.

But Alec closed his eyes when Sam released him, when he heard his brother's footfalls mark Sam's departure from the room, from him. He hadn't meant to hurt Sam, to choose Dean over him, to make any choice at all. He had just not wanted to leave. Not Dean or Sam. Had wanted them to stay together for a little while longer, pretend that the wolf would never be at the door again, that Manticore would never come knocking, that they were safe. '_You of all people should know you can't let down your guard! That's how Manticore got the drop on you in the first place. You were too focused on your family, on that gift for Dean, didn't pay attention like you should have, thought you were safe. You're never safe, never and neither is Sam or Dean. You can't forget that, even if you want to.'_

A few minutes later, sounds from the hallway snagged his attention from Dean, had him watching the doorway, reaching for the gun he had tucked in the back of his jeans. Until he heard Sam's "Few more steps" and Lydecker grunt out a curse. Then the twosome were in the bedroom's doorway, hoisting a recliner, half shoving it, half coaxing it through the doorframe. Plunking the chair down on the floor, Lydecker leaned over it, breathing hard while Sam turned a beaming smile on Alec. "If Mohammad won't come to the mountain…"

Stunned at Sam's thoughtfulness, it took Alec a moment to realize that Sam was beside him, was gently tugging on his elbow, inviting him to get up, switch up the merciless wooden chair for the luxurious contours of the recliner. Numbly, Alec allowed Sam to pull him to his feet. His inept muscles jerked fiercely at the movement, bulked at the prospect of standing but Sam drew him against his rocksteady frame, held onto him, didn't let him fall. And then, when Lydecker had situated the recliner beside Dean's bed, Sam eased him down into the new chair,

Sinking into the comfortable depths of the lounge chair, Alec moaned in pleasure. "Sam, you are an awesome big brother."

Warmed by Alec's words and the matching look of adoration that his little brother was bestowing on him, Sam smirked. He was getting the hang of this big brother stuff.

SNDASNDASNDASNDASNDASN

It seemed almost cruel, to wake Dean up. And maybe Sam would have forestalled his actions, if Dean didn't look so pale, didn't look so fragile. With just one glance, Sam could see the proof of Dean's fast, knew that his brother needed to eat more than he needed to sleep.

Sitting down on the bed at Dean's side, Sam reached out, lightly settled his hand across Dean's forehead. He wasn't sure if it was just hopeful wishing on his part or if Dean actually felt less hot, that the fever was dropping. Raising his hand, disappointed that Dean hadn't woken at his touch, he tried for tactic number two. "Dean, hey. Time to eat something."

Dean didn't stir at his beckoning and Sam nearly sighed. Let it up to Dean to always choose the hard way. He gave Dean's cheek a light tap, upped the volume of his entreaty, "Dean, wake up. _Dean_," he called, more need than demand in his tone.

Dean twitched and his eyes fluttered. He could no more ignore that voice, the need in that familiar voice anymore than he could switch up ACDC for Kenny G.

When Dean showed signs of waking up, Sam kept talking, though he kept his tone measured and quiet, didn't want to rattle Dean anymore than he wanted to wake Alec who slumbered in the recliner, a slight tremble wracking his lithe frame. "I've got actual food this time and it's not grape flavored. But you'll be happy to know I got it out of a can, didn't make it for you myself."

It took effort, to open his eyes but Dean had done a heck of a lot harder things for his brother. It was worth the struggle, to follow that voice to the surface, to open his eyes and see Sam. Sam hadn't gone anywhere, had kept his promise. Unable to help himself, he looked to the left and saw Alec there. Just where they had both been when he checked out for awhile.

Sam didn't even try to tame down the smile that sprang to his lips as Dean resurfaced, at the way his brother's eyes widened as he saw him, as Dean checked to make sure Alec was there too before he faced him again, heartrending relief evident in every line of his brother's face.

"You're not going to start the whole 'you're dead, this is just in my mind' thing again are you? Because that…would be awkward," Sam drawled, his eyes sparkling as he threw out one of his brother's own smart aleck comebacks.

Not quite confident enough to joke about his tenuous state of mind, Dean shifted on the bed, winced as pain reawakened. But he was grateful for it, for the way it cleared away some of the cobwebs in his head. "How? I heard the gunshots. You were inside the motel room when they started it on fire, Sam."

Knowing that he shouldn't be surprised that Dean woke up demanding answers, Sam however, had wished to ease into the tale. Shrugging, the gesture clearly stating that his miraculous survival was none of his doing, Sam replied, "Lydecker. He saved me. Alec, too. He let Boris believe that we were both dead."

Whatever explanation Dean thought was coming, this wasn't it. "Lydecker? Dad's war buddy who stole my blood and whipped up Alec, Lydecker?"

Sam gave a small smile at Dean's words, at the phrasing only Dean would make up, well him and Alec because some things apparently were genetic. "Yup. Lydecker, the one and the same."

Raising a heavy hand to his forehead, Dean tried to sort out the jumble of what was real and what wasn't, what were memories and what was fantasy. "This is even crazier than the crap going on in my head."

Sam snorted, "Doubt that," which got Dean dropping his hand and giving him a blistering glare. But Sam _laughed_ at the gesture. He was getting his brother back, slowly but surely.

"So let me talk this out…Lydecker, the guy that got us involved with Manticore in the first place, saved you, saved Alec. And Boris, he really believed that you both were dead."

"According to Lydecker, yes," Sam calmly supplied, would gladly sit there and answer any questions Dean thought to throw his way.

"So Lydecker is a what? Ally? Friend? And you _trust_ him?" Dean pressed, didn't know that he could handle this much of a change in the world he thought he knew.

There could be only one reply to Dean's question. "He helped us get you out of Manticore, Dean."

Sam's no-nonsense statement, the affection in his brother's eyes as they held his, it told Dean that Sam would grant Lydecker _sainthood_ for that one good deed. Even if he didn't deserve it. "That's not an answer," Dean pressed, didn't want his brothers trading his safety for their own by misplaced trust. Wanting to take stock of things, determined to get back to protecting Sam, protecting Alec, of doing his duty, he sought to sit up…and failed miserably.

Even before Sam could reach out and stop his actions, Dean crumbled back onto the bed and shut his eyes against the wildly spinning room. "This is worse than that time I tumbled down that mountain, couldn't walk in a straight line for a week."

Sam's fear abruptly softened to concern as Dean's words indicated that his brother's distress was mere dizziness. "It was a _hill_, Dean. Not a mountain. And who says you could walk a straight line before that."

"Ha ha," Dean growled back but he didn't open his eyes, didn't want to chance adding throwing up to the events of the day. Though he was dreading even the thought of opening his eyes ever again, Sam's next words were gentle, washed over him, soothed him.

"Hey, it'll get better, Dean. Your body's still dehydrated," Sam carefully pointed out, didn't want Dean to think he needed to be superhuman, that he expected him to just bounce back after what he had done, had done to himself. But now was not the time to get into that, to rip Dean a new one for his suicidal actions, not yet. "Just keep your eyes closed. We'll start with some broth, see how that goes down," he said. Dipping out a spoonful of the broth from the bowl he had sat on the nightstand, he slipped the other hand behind Dean's neck and eased his brother's head just far enough off the bed to prevent him from choking.

And unlike the times before, Dean obediently opened his mouth, allowed the broth to slip into his mouth, visibly swallowed the liquid without one protest, all the while keeping his eyes shut. Sam barely choked back the "you're doing good" praise he wanted to offer, knew that Dean would protest it, the coddling, the hand holding. Instead he dished out another spoonful, was almost giddy as Dean, without resistance, swallowed that one too. He delivered two more spoonfuls before he stopped. "I'm not sure if I should give you more…" Sam timidly admitted. He wanted to be confident, a source of strength for Dean but at the same time, he didn't want to hurt Dean further, do the wrong thing for his brother.

"That was enough," Dean quietly gave Sam an out.

Carefully, Sam slipped his hand out from under Dean's neck, resettled Dean's head onto the pillow. "Do you need anything Dean?"

"A friggin' shirt wouldn't be a bad idea," Dean words caustic but his tone teasing as he opened one eye to peek at Sam. Sam's reply proof that his brother was taking his suggestion in the vein that it was given in.

"You're the one who's always bragging that your body's a work of art, should be put on display in every major city," Sam sallied back, even as he was shrugging out of his shirt.

Suspicious of the rustling of fabric, Dean chanced opening both of his eyes. "I didn't mean your shirt, Sam."

But Sam didn't slow his motions, deftly removed his own shirt. Sliding his hand behind Dean's back, he helped Dean sit up. They struggled in silence to get the shirt on, were almost undone by a tangled long sleeve when another set of hands intervened, saved the day: Alec's.

"Is this "dress the invalid" day?" Alec joked but there was something lurking in his eyes, fear. Fear that didn't abate until Dean's retort was launched his way.

"Bite me," Dean growled, though it held too much mirth to really scare anyone.

At the liveliness of Dean's volley back, Alec felt the urge to hug Dean, had to satisfy himself with giving back a laughing reprimand, "We talked about you NOT ever using that phrase again."

"And you keep forgetting that big brothers make the rules," Dean reminded but growing fatigue weakened the words. And when Sam lowered him back on to the bed, a hiss of pain slipped out when his abused back once again came into contact with the mattress. He was grateful that neither of his brothers commented on his weakness. Lacking the energy to protest Sam buttoning up the flannel shirt, pulling the bedcovers up to his chin, he simply watched his brothers exchange worried looks over him.

"What about Manticore?" he asked, hated that his words were turning breathless, nearly slurred. His question had his brothers' eyes zeroing in on him, both holding the same irrefutable resolve.

"They'll never get their hands on you again, Dean. I swear," Alec vowed, his misplaced guilt for that ever happening in the first place shining through.

But Dean shook his head, that hadn't been his concern. "Do they still think you're both dead? Does Boris?" He couldn't sleep without that answer, wouldn't let his guard down if his brothers needed him.

To his credit, Sam didn't blink an eyelash as he confirmed, "They still think we're dead, Dean. Boris too." And the lie, it was worth it when the fear abated from Dean's eyes, when Dean allowed himself to sink into sleep without a fight. It was time for him to take care of Dean, to hide the worst truths from Dean like his brother had always done for him.

Dreading Alec's reaction, Sam was pleasantly stunned when Alec gave him a nod of agreement. But he still began to give Alec a defense for his decision, "If he knew…."

"I know," Alec solemnly cut in, understanding in his tone. They both knew, better than ever before, the lengths Dean would go to protect the people that he cared about. And it hadn't really been unexpected when the soldiers that had helped Lydecker with his deceptions suddenly stopped answering their private cell phones, inexplicably hadn't returned home from work yet. Were just _gone, _sucked into the black hole that Manticore was_._ Gone like Dean had been, would have remained if no one had been around to miss him, to risk life and limb to get him back.

Lydecker had imparted the news to them haltingly, leaving the unmistakable repercussions unspoken by all three of them. The gig was up. If Lydecker was recognized as an enemy, if his Manticore allies had been uncovered they would have being tortured for information. And there was no doubt that Lydecker's men gave up any information that they had, had probably screamed out the answers to any questions Boris asked of them. And the truly sad part was, it wouldn't have saved them, them breaking down, confessing. It might have given them a quicker, less painful death. Maybe, if Manticore's torture masters were late for a brunch or a staff meeting.

Focusing on the trouble at hand, Sam grabbed the glass of milk that he had carted upstairs with Dean's broth. And to his credit, Alec conceded to the fight before it began, reached out to submissively take the glass. Circumventing Alec's grasp, Sam held the cup to Alec's lips, didn't trust his brother's shaky grip to keep hold of the glass.

"Control freak," Alec groused, earned him a protesting snort from Sam, even as he swallowed down the offering until the glass was empty.

Busying himself with returning the glass to the nightstand, Sam tried to sound casual as he proposed, "Maybe Lydecker can do something to help you." Because Alec wasn't much improved and it had been hours since he had broken his fast, had downed some Tryptophan.

"No," Alec sharply shot down Sam's suggestion.

Forcing lightness into his tone, Sam pressed, "No because you don't want his help or no, there's nothing he can do?"

Caught in the crosshairs of Sam's sharp regard, Alec smirked faintly. "Both. I just need to ride the seizures out on my own."

"We'll ride the seizures out," Sam amended, wasn't going to stand for any more independent action from either of his brothers. "You would feel better in a bed," he stated but didn't press, knew that Dean's lucidity, it had eased some of his worry, some of Alec's, but not all of it. Not yet.

Making a show of sitting back into the recliner and snuggling into its cushy exterior, Alec lazily drawled, "This is way better than a bed."

"Sure it is," Sam sarcastically shot back. Coming to his feet, he rummaged through a drawer and returned with a blanket. Snapping the blanket open, he draped it, not only over Alec's lap but over his brother's fat head. "Don't think I'm giving you a massage when you wake up with a backache."

"You're all heart," Alec said from under the blanket.

SNDASNDASNDASNDASN

As a sharp pain ran down his spine, Alec only partly blamed the seizures but Sam wasn't going to hear that from him. There was no way he was going to give Sam the satisfaction of being right about a bed versus chair debate. Rolling over in the recliner, he stretched and pried his eyes open and found that Dean was watching him from his vantage point on the bed. Instantly Alec sat up, breathlessly asked, "Dean, are you alright? Do you need something?" worried that Dean had tried to wake him earlier, needed his help minutes ago, maybe hours ago.

At his brother's anxious inquiry, Dean gave a small shake of his head, couldn't speak, not when his emotions were so near the surface.

Alec's unease wasn't pacified at Dean's non verbal reply. In fact it only grew. Surging out of the chair, stumbling on the blanket at his feet in his haste, he just barely stopped himself from tumbling onto Dean, his slowly returning innate balance allowing him to turn a fumble into a gentle landing onto the bed at Dean's hip. He rested his hand on Dean's stomach. "Are you hurting? Are you hungry? Well of course you're hungry, stupid question, I'll get you something.." Alec rambled. Dean's quiet declaration cut him to the quick, caused his whole body to stiffen.

"I should have known he wasn't you, should have known that from the jump." Dean couldn't believe he had been fooled, for even a _second_. The Alec before him now and the one at Manticore, heck, even the one that came strolling back into the motel room…they were world's apart. And he should have recognized that. It would have saved everyone a lot of heartbreak and pain.

Dean's words rang of self hatred and his eyes radiated a raw apology and that just made things worse for Alec, made Alec's own throat constrict. Because none of it was Dean's fault, was his. "I'm sorry that they used your feelings for me to hurt you that _he_…" Alec's eyes dropped from Dean's eyes to the bandage around Dean's neck. He couldn't help feeling that, in some sick way, he had done that to Dean, had nearly killed his brother, had made Dean vulnerable for such an attack. "That he did that," he bitterly concluded, nodding toward Dean's neck and reaching out to brush his fingers over the matching bandage on Dean's wrist.

Before Alec could remove his touch, Dean captured Alec's hand in his own. Dean waited patiently until Alec's tortured gaze met his own before he spoke. "Alec, shapeshifters, possessions, clones, facing doppelgangers kinda goes with our gig."

Suddenly, Alec wanted to envelope Dean into a giant bear hug. Dean was excusing him of blame! And he didn't hate him for any intentional part he had played in the horrors of the last couple of days. But more than that, Dean was forgiving him, just like he always did, and probably always would.

Instead of a show of physical affection, Alec paid his big brother back in a way that he knew Dean would appreciate: wry humor. "Our gig sucks," he returned, a slight tremble in his tone but his smile was strong.

"Oh yeah," Dean heartily agreed, giving Alec's hand a squeeze before releasing it.

And Alec knew that he should drop it, let the free pass that Dean had given him stand, but he couldn't. His voice squeaked a little as he began. "How did.." clearing his throat and rolling his shoulder he continued, his voice stronger, "When did you know …" But he couldn't get the questions out, the possible answers, they terrified him. What made him so different from the clone, what made him worthy of a family, of Dean's love, of Sam's? Maybe he wasn't that different from 492 at all, maybe it was merely wrong place, right time. His brothers found _him_, he hadn't found _them_. If they had learned of 492's existence first….

"His eyes," Dean answered Alec's half formed question, was surprised when the eyes that he treasured narrow in disappointment.

Alec felt ill as the realization hit home. '_A physical defeat, an anomaly in the color of 492's eyes, that's the only difference between him and me. I could just as easily be him, be 494 instead of Alec _Winchester.'

Not sure how he had hurt Alec but recognizing that he did, Dean hurriedly clarified, "There was no …life in his eyes. No twinkle, no…compassion. And when they looked at me.." he involuntarily shivered.

Seeing the shudder that wracked through Dean, Alec worriedly leaned closer. "Hey, we don't have to talk about this now," he gently said even as he cursed himself for upsetting Dean, for forcing a conversation his brother wasn't ready to have. He hated that he had selfishly sought answers, comfort for himself while putting Dean in pain.

But Dean spoke over Alec's words, his desperation evident in his tone. "Yes, we _do_. Alec, he's nothing like you, you have to know that."

"Why don't I go get some broth or maybe some of that yummy grape Pedialyte…" Alec deflected as he looked away from his brother, was about to stand up, leave the room. Cowardly, he wanted to stop Dean from continuing, suddenly wanted to let the mystery stand.

"He doesn't know _how_ to love, Alec," Dean bluntly declared, earning him Alec's continued presence but not his brother's eye contact. "Has no…kindness in him. And I knew, no matter what Manticore ever did to you, they could never destroy the goodness in you." He watched as Alec's jaw clenched as if his belief in him was wounding. "That, no matter what, you would never hate me, not like your clone did."

Shocked at the revelation, Alec's eyes snapped to Dean. "I could never hate you, Dean," Alec fervently vowed, the devotion in his eyes saying more than any words ever could.

'_But you came close_,' Dean thought, remembered the way Alec had looked at him after learning about his crossroad's deal, had said, "I wish I had never met you," and meant it. But he knew that Alec's hatred had sprang out of love, out of being _hurt_. 492's hatred, it wasn't about hurt, or betrayal and it certainly wasn't about love turning to hate. It was just pure hatred brimming from a void where life, goodness should have resided but only deadness did.

When Alec couldn't detect any signs that Dean had accepted his vow, saw instead that a troubled expression still clung to Dean's features, Alec demanded, "I couldn't hate you, Dean! You know that right?"

Dean nodded his head, pulled on a small smile, gave Alec what he wanted, needed.

Relieved when Dean took his declaration to heart, accepted it, Alec lightly added one stipulation, "Well, not unless you die on me."

'_Like I thought you did on me_,' came unbidden to Dean. He couldn't forget that moment when he thought Alec was dead, would never forget the feel of his brother's bar code in his hand. "Your bar code…"he began, his voice hoarse, telegraphing his emotions loud and clear.

At first, Alec didn't track the change of topic but when he did, it hit him hard. Dean had thought he was dead, had been given _proof_ that he was: his bar code. "I woke up with a bandage on the back of my neck." Alec gave a dark croak that might have been a laugh. "I should have known what that meant. It's what I did to survive, collected barcodes as confirmation of my transgenic kills."

Dean, unwilling to let Alec's twisted view of his former actions stand unchallenged, firmly elaborated, "Yeah and Lydecker did the same thing you did for that kid transgenic: he only took your bar code, **not your life**."

Alec couldn't agree with Dean's words. Though he hadn't killed the kid himself, he might as well have. The kid had ended up just as dead. Because of him, because he used the kid, because he was willing to risk a child's _life_ to save his own.

"Is it gone?" Dean quietly asked, hope carrying in his tone. It would be a relief if the bull's-eye was off Alec, if his brother no longer bore any outward marks that designated him as a transgenic.

Burying the dark memories, Alec replied to Dean's question with a sarcastic snort. "Yeah, right. Like that would be my luck. " But he amended a second later, "_Our_ luck", because if his luck could be considered bad, his family's luck sucked out loud. And they were a family, were a package deal. If being a transgenic made him a target, it meant his brothers were too. And not just from Ordinaries who had a dislike for all things transgenic, including those who associated with transgenics, Boris had kindly proven that point.

Knowing that Dean wouldn't be appeased until he saw it with his own two eyes, Alec turned his head to show Dean the back of his neck. He stilled when Dean's fingers timidly touched the new skin, lightly skimmed over the bar code that was faint but getting darker with every passing day. When he faced Dean again, he saw the disappointment in his brother's eyes.

"Thought maybe something good had come out of this," Dean mumbled sardonically, feeling foolish for harboring such a rose colored notion.

"Like _anything_ could be worth what you went through," Alec snapped back, his fury at Dean's treatment at Manticore's hands resurfacing.

"Same stuff they put you through," Dean softly countered. Though he didn't want to dredge up bad memories for Alec, he was averse to letting Alec put him on some kind of pedestal. He had only been subjected to Manticore's tests for a few days. Alec had endured them for years, for _twenty years_.

"No. Not the same!" Alec heatedly spat back, his anger spilling over to Dean, to his brother's perchance to downplay his pain, to turn the tables and shift the focus off of himself.

But Dean wasn't relenting, not until he acknowledged what Alec had gone through. And for the first time, he understood it clearly and it made him sick, had him wishing harder than ever before that he had learned of Alec's existence a long time ago, had spared Alec some of the pain, all of it. "Tests, lasers, fear, manipulation, pain," he ticked off, his tone turning more outraged with each category. "All pretty standard Manticore protocol, right."

Alec cringed at the list, had foolishly clung to the hope that they hadn't used the lasers on Dean, hated that Dean admitted to being _hurt_, of being _afraid_. "It was never supposed to happen to you. Never," he hoarsely said, wished he had saved Dean the pain, the type of pain he knew personally.

"Or to you, Alec. You didn't deserve any of that either," Dean fervently shot back, eyes boring into Alec's, needing Alec to finally accept that truth.

Shaking his head, Alec denied, "Dean, I'm not like you. What I am…"  
Dean didn't let him finish, growled out menacingly, "What you are is my brother. They had no right to hurt you. Ever."

His brother's fury, declaration of loyalty, papa bear protective tone, it effectively sputtered out Alec's protests, crumbled Alec's deep seated belief that he must have deserved what Manticore had done to him. If Dean believed he was good, if Dean didn't think his goodness could be smothered even by Manticore, if Dean thought him worthy of such devotion, Well, then he would just simply have to trust Dean's judgment.

Suddenly, it was as if a weight had lifted from Alec, as if some of the darkness in him abated. He smiled, widely. "That's the Dean that I know and love," he drawled, immensely glad to be the recipient of Dean's fearsome devotion, that Dean was alive for him to tease.

Dean rolled his eyes at Alec's sentimentality but didn't deflect it. Not today. He was too busy being grateful for Alec's presence. "Darn right, so stop trying to pull crap over on me."

"What? I'm not," Alec denied though he didn't exactly know what Dean was referring to.

"Drink your milk, putty tat," Dean ordered pointing to the full glass of milk, courtesy of Sam, that was sitting on the night stand.

"I'm alright," Alec glossed over the concern he could read in Dean's eyes.

"You're still trembling, Alec," Dean lobbed out like an accusation, his eyes _daring_ Alec to lie to him again. "I'm a little hazy on things. How long did you go without your pills? Without food?"

"Three less days than you," Alec cheekily replied, stubbornly side stepped Dean's inquisition.

Though Alec's tone was light, joking, Dean saw the unyielding look in Alec's eyes. His little brother wasn't going to break. "How badly did you screw up your nervous system?" Dean gently asked, let his worry carry in his tone, hoping that Alec would react to it, would instinctively do something to ease it.

"I'll schedule a tune up later," Alec offhandedly remarked with a wave of his hand, dismissing his own well being.

It was as close to an admission of how badly Alec was still feeling as Dean knew he was likely to get. But it was enough, made him face what he had wanted to deny. Alec had just about killed himself, was just slowing coming back from the brink. "What were you thinking?" Dean roared, his fear, his outrage giving him the strength to push himself up on the bed, to ignore the pain that shot down his back at the movement.

Reacting first to Dean's astonishing change in altitude, Alec grabbed Dean's arm, steadied him as he shoved the pillow against the headboard and leaned Dean back to rest against it. Then he fired back a resounding answer to Dean's question. "Oh, I don't know, that I wasn't going to let you give up and die!"

Dean froze at Alec's shout, at the words his brother had chosen. 'Give up and die' not just 'die', but 'give up' as if he _knew_…realized. And then he saw it, in Alec's eyes, that Alec knew the truth, knew the choice he had made, had almost made. To die rather than to live. To seemingly surrender like a coward. '_Maybe that's what I am, a coward, someone who would rather die than fight.'_

Rocked by the surprise that turned to dread then to shame in Dean's eyes, Alec wanted to unsay what he had said, didn't want to have the conversation they were heading for. Not now, not without Sam there. "I'll get some broth for you. Stay put, Dean," he ordered, his eyes purposefully no longer meeting Dean's as he scampered out of the room, cursing himself for opening that can of worms, for laying the accusation out plain for Dean to see, for letting his own residuals of fear control him, hurt Dean.

"No problem," Dean submissively agreed to his brother's order because not moving was something he excelled at right then, his movement of defiance a moment ago sapping any strength he had been building up. But Alec didn't hear him, was already out the door, had gone almost as quickly as he had left him in the helicopter back in TC. '_Least he didn't give any parting shot this time, no, 'wish I never met ya', no 'if you woulda offed yourself things would be better'. _But it felt like the words still hung in the air, that Alec's anger at him, at his actions wasn't going to just disappaite, was going to be something he carried with him, a wedge that was between him and Alec. And if Alec knew the truth of what he had done…Sam probably did to.

Cursing aloud, Dean closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headboard. Strangely enough, he thought of those few Japanese kamikaze bombers on Pearl Harbor who actually survived, who failed to go out in a blaze of glory, who lived when they had been all set to die to protect their country that they loved. He had always thought it a raw deal, that they were considered a disgrace, that the country they loved didn't honor them for the attempt, for having the loyalty, the guts to hop in a plane and plan to dive bomb it nose first into an air carrier. That, in the end, their best intentions didn't matter.

"But at least their family didn't look at them like they should be sent to a counselor for having suicidal tendencies," Dean mumbled to the quiet room, dreading the conversation to come, the look that Sam would give him, that how-could-you-think-of-leaving-me look that Sam had worn for the whole year his crossroad's deal had hung over his head, their heads.

And in that moment, Dean almost commiserated with one of the Japanese survivor's sentiments that it 'would have been easier to die with honor than live with this shame.' Almost. If he didn't have two little brothers to take care of, if he didn't know that, if he was strapping himself into a doomed plane, his wingmen would be Sam and Alec.

In the end, he knew that neither his honor nor his shame stacked up to much compared to letting his brothers down. So he had passed on the posthumously awarded metal. He would endure whatever touchy feely intervention his brothers staged for him. And he would wisely refrain from telling them that, if it ever came down to their safety or his, their survival or his own, he would make the same choice all over again.

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The bedroom was quiet, well except for the slurping, chewing and gulping. Sitting up against the headboard, Dean gulping down more broth, wondered how something so simple could taste so good. Course it wasn't as good as say the hamburger Sam was chewing on with relish or the milk shake Alex was slurping up a straw. In the scheme of things, he had definitely gotten screwed.

"I'm assuming this place _has_ a kitchen," Dean sarcastically said, breaking the silence.

Sam answered around a mouthful of burger, "Yeah."

"And you two aren't eating in there because…." Dean left the question open ended, hoping to get a voluntary answer. He did. Two of them.

"Too drafty," Alec supplied while Sam stated, "Too small."

His brothers at least had the good grace to blush and drop their gaze from his. Dean nearly sighed, knew that Sam and Alec didn't want to leave him alone. They didn't trust him to be alone. '_Buck up and talk about the elephant in the room_,' he goaded himself. To hide his own discomfort, he went with bluntness. "If you leave me alone for awhile, I'm not going to go purge what I just ate. So cut the intervention crap."

Alec froze.

But Sam, he reacted instantaneous, like his explosion had been primed and ready.

Tossing his plate on the bed, Sam surged out of his chair, towered over Dean, shouted, "You tried to kill yourself Dean!" The long held back accusation breaking free but it was worse, hearing it aloud, saying it aloud.

Dean met Sam's rage calmly, even cockily. "It was an effective act of defiance, Sam. Thought you would approve of me cutting back on my cholesterol…"

"I'm not just talking about the not eating, Dean!" Sam's furious accusation hacked apart Dean's false composure.

Paling, Dean looked to Sam, to Alec, saw their matching expression of fear, horror. He prayed that they didn't know the rest of it, that this was all about something else, some other way he had screwed up. "What are…" he began, his voice lacking the confidence it had a second ago.

It was Alec whose quiet words gave him his answer. "Lydecker. He…he told us…what you did."

Dean felt some of his control slip through his fingers. Friggin' Lydecker and his loose lips. He tried to assess the damage done. "What, and you expected me to play nice with the friggin' clone, agree to be Boris' little submissive science project!"

"I expected you to do whatever you had to do to survive…like I did," Alec returned, cold accusation bleeding through his calm tone. But he couldn't let the rest go unsaid, buried, unacknowledged. "But you didn't do that, did you! You tried to take your own life. You.." but it was no more easy thinking of Dean's actions than saying them aloud.

"I what?" Dean challenged, kept belligerence in his tone to conceal his dread.

Shifting on his feet, Sam watched Alec bow his head, falter. And he wanted to let Dean's pride stand too, wanted to brush everything under the bed, move on. But he knew Dean would just let his internal wounds fester, would never talk about them if he wasn't forced to, would carry his actions around as shame…when they weren't shameful, were foolish and reckless and blindingly selfless but not shameful.

It was love, not strength that gave Sam the ability to speak, to not shy away from Dean's hurt expression. "You attempted to slit your own wrists…throat." Sam gave a dark bark of laughter. "_Attempted_? You did it."

"I didn't slit my wrists and throat!" Dean denied, his voice coming out an octave higher. But at the combined glare of his brothers, he amended, "I reopened existing wounds to my wrist and throat."

"Hoping to bleed out. Glad you clarified that for us," Alec sardonically drawled. "Wow, I feel relieved. How about you, Sam?" his eyes, however, never left Dean.

Feeling vulnerable, exposed, Dean went on the defensive, boldly grabbed the bull by the horns, "Yeah and faced with the same situation, I would do it again."

His declaration was like throwing a match onto gasoline, ignited the room in super heated emotions. Alec angrily came out of his chair even as Sam leapt forward, fisted his hands in Dean's shirt and gave Dean a jarring shake.

"Don't say that! Don't you say that!" Sam snarled in Dean's face, hated that Dean didn't even cringe, didn't even bat an eyelash, took his rage, his physical abuse without one protest. But worse than that, Dean didn't recant his statement. Instead, Dean let his vow stand.

"Oh, so I'm not supposed to kill myself to save others but it was OK if you ran into that burning house to kill Yellow Eyes, died getting your revenge," Dean growled, his unrepentant gaze clashing with Sam's.

Seeing Sam flinch, knowing that whatever Dean was referring to, it was still an open wound, Alec interceded, "Hey, maybe now's not the best time to talk about this." Slipping his hand around Sam's bicep, he gave it a pull and Sam relented, allowed the physical confrontation to melt away.

But Dean wasn't done, turned to Alec and hurled, "And you stopped taking your Tryptophan, nearly died because of it. I think you two are the last people who can criticize me for going suicidal."

Sam shook his head, choked out, "No, we're the _first_, Dean. Alec and I would have been the ones that would have had to live without you. Remember that before you make anymore crossroad deals, attempt to bleed out or try to starve yourself to death."

Raging at the reprimand, Dean fired back, "Far as I knew you were dead, Sam! You and Alec! I didn't have anything…"

"Don't you dare say you didn't have anything to live for," Sam menacingly cut in.

Instead of saying just that, Dean shrugged, "Then what do you want me to say? That I won't smother myself with a pillow the second you two leave me alone? That I'll eat my vegetables like a good little boy?"

But Dean watched as Sam shook his head angrily and fisted his hands. "What do you want me to say, Sam! I was out of options! I had no other way to fight _back_," his emotions beginning to trip him up, his vulnerability peeking through the catch in his voice. Exhaling a shakey breath, he said, "I didn't think either of you were alive to rescue me, I couldn't get myself free…."

"Did you even _try_?" Alec asked bleakly, knowing in his gut the answer already.

"Would it have made a difference if I did?" Dean countered quietly. "You know Manticore's security…"

Finger pointed threateningly at Dean, Alec hissed, "You didn't even try!"

Swallowing hard, Dean remained ominously silent, couldn't verbalize that he didn't want to try because he didn't want to live, not without his brothers. But when Sam bit his lip and Alec turned away, he knew his brothers saw the truth as clearly as if it were signed in black and white on his suicide letter.

Fearing that Alec would leave the room, scamper away from the volatile emotions, Sam reached out, wrapped his fingers around Alec's forearm. When Alec's eyes came up to his, he knew Alec was as shaken as he was. Sam didn't know how to put things right, to drown the fear that clung to them both, to assuage the desperation that still hummed under Dean's veneer.

"I'll try next time, alright," Dean promised quietly, didn't want to hurt his brothers anymore, wanted to make things better for all of them. His declaration earned him both of this brothers' eye contact. "Next time I get nearly garroted by a clone and fall into the evil clutches of a mad scientist, I'll try to make my escape…will slip out between the seaweed treatment session and the back rub."

Shaking his head at his brother's sense of humor, Sam couldn't fight a smile. Sparing a look to his left, he saw that Alec wasn't falling victim to Dean's charm so easily, had a determined set to his clenched jaw as he stepped back to Dean's bed.

"That's not good enough," Alec lowly said, waited until Dean's cockiness faded to contriteness before he continued. "You slip out before the seaweed treatment, those aren't as good for your skin as you think."

Dean laughed, had been worried a moment there that Alec wasn't going to forgive him. But then Alec pointed a finger at him. "And if someone tries to garrote you, you take them down, no matter who they look like. You got that?"

"Sir, yes, sir," Dean mockingly gave a salute back to Alec's order.

"Unless they look like me," Sam interjected. At Alec's glare he taunted, "Hey, I don't have any clones running around wearing my face."

"That you know of," Dean threw out with a raised eyebrow, a smile beaming on his features as Sam sent him a warning look. "I did see this one transgenic…hair was a lot like yours…you know, Shaggy like…"

Alec joined in on the fun. "Yeah, there was this gangly X6 kid, too. We used to practice jumping over _him_ instead of walls…"

"Oh, nice, really funny," Sam drily volleyed back. "Hilarious."

"And that's not even my best work," Alec bragged.

Dean smiled as his brothers continued to bicker. He had missed this, had missed _them. _Fiercely_. 'What did I ever do to deserve them_,' he wondered, knew that, whatever fate asked back in return for the gift of having two awesome little brothers, he would gladly pay it, ten times over.

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TBC

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Well I didn't get as far in the plot as I planned but I really wanted to update today. I hope it's still satisfying.

For those wondering what's coming up next…Lydecker and Dean meet up for a conversation or two and then…Manticore tries to repossess its property, namely Dean.

I want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas!

Cheryl W.

Here's a poem I wrote for my family and friends and you guys definitely fall into that category!

Lord,

Why did you send your Son from his home to ours

To live without His majestic powers

How do I repay a Life given for mine

A Life so holy and divine

Why do You care about someone like me

What is it that you hope for me to be

No matter how often I search your Holy Word

The answers are always simple and the same

You did it all out of Love

Love that gives and pardons and saves

Love that doesn't leave us no matter what we do or say

Love that sacrifices a heavenly King to save an earthly pauper like me

It's a crazy love some would say

But one I thank God for each and every day

Merry Christmas!

~Cheryl Witman

2010


	19. Chapter 19: What Matters Most pt 11

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

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Chapter 19 – What Matters Most – part 11

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Lydecker had almost walked into the proverbial lion's den unaware. He was two steps into the kitchen before he realized Dean sat at the kitchen table. The man wasn't alone, which wasn't a surprise. His two brothers guarded him more fiercely than a mama cougar her cubs.

Halting just inside the kitchen's threshold, Lydecker did what his military training had taught him to. He assessed the situation, sought to determine if there was a threat to his well-being, and scoped out his exit strategies. Truth was, he had dreaded this moment, coming face to face with Dean Winchester, a coherent Dean Winchester.

He wasn't a coward, he knew that much about himself. But he was a survivor and that meant sometimes retreating when other men might make a stand. "I'll check the perimeter," he offered, tried to make it sound offhand, like he wasn't scampering away.

"I think that can wait until after breakfast," Dean headed off Lydecker's retreat, his statement earning him the older man's surprised but wary gaze. He almost smirked when the soldier's eyes flickered nervously to his two brothers who flanked him at the table, as if he was seeking out their permission to come out and play with him. '_I must have missed some real fun bonding time between the three of them.'_

When Alec and Sam didn't even look his way, instead kept their eyes trained on Dean, Lydecker took it as a sign of indifference, if not agreement, of him joining them. He dropped into a chair opposite Dean at the table, couldn't help shoot an appraising look Dean's way. He honestly hadn't thought the kid would be out of bed for a week, at least. The way Dean had _looked _in Manticore, how far the young man had let himself go, it was a miracle he was alive at all.

As if sensing his inspection, Dean looked up from his breakfast to meet his gaze. Dropping his eyes first, Lydecker hoped the other man didn't detect the knot of fear gathering his gut. Whether John Winchester's eldest son knew it or not, his life was in his hands. Because, regardless of Alec's earlier gratitude and Sam's begrudging agreement to trust him to get Dean free, Lydecker knew that if Dean held him responsible for any measure of his pain, Dean's brothers would take him into the woods out back and make sure his body was never found.

When Lydecker entered the kitchen, intruded on his family time, a spike of sharp resentment sang through Alec. He would have never made the invitation Dean had. Yes, he was grateful for his former commander's help. That, however, didn't mean the man could pull up a chair and pretend they were all bosom buddies. Not after he himself had had to put so much work into being accepted by Sam and Dean. Not when he had done so much to protect his brothers and Lydecker's actions twenty years ago had done so much to put them in danger. One good deed didn't wipe out the rest. He knew that better than anyone.

Forgetting the eggs on his plate, Dean continued to stare across the table at Colonel Donald Lydecker. There was a familiarity in the way that the man moved, reminiscent of his own father's curbed military walk. But more than that, he _knew_ the man. He just had to organize his childhood memories, the flashes he had from Manticore and his hallucinations into some semblance of order. He nearly jumped when Sam's fingers settled on his wrist.

"Dean," Sam worriedly beckoned, afraid that Dean's unfocused stare was a sign that his brother truly was out of bed too soon.

Shaking himself out of his funk, Dean met Sam's concerned eyes. "Yeah?" his voice gruff like it always was when he was feeling vulnerable and resented it.

Dropping his voice to nearly an exhale of air, Sam carefully asked, "You want to lie down?" not wishing his words to carry to Lydecker.

"No," Dean curtly replied, sliding his arm out from under Sam's fingers. He didn't miss the hurt in Sam's eyes as he outwardly disdained Sam's touch and his concern. His actions were a poor return for what Sam was offering, how Sam had taken care of him, had saved him. For a fleeting moment he almost apologized, until he remembered it wasn't just him and Alec and Sam in the room. Eyes again settling on Lydecker, he bit his lip, tried to get a feel for the man, to remember him from twenty years ago, to make his own determination if he could be trusted with his brothers' lives.

Sighing at Dean's refusal to admit he wasn't at 100% and fighting down a pang of pain at Dean's physical withdrawal from him, Sam, however, didn't press the issue, knowing that he would lose. Just as he knew he would when he had nearly collided in the bedroom doorway with Dean, a Dean who was dressed and had determination blazing in his eyes. Who had insisted he was well enough to be up and around and wanted a real breakfast.

But Sam was not weak, didn't crumble at even the toughest battles, not when his family's well being was at stake. So he had begun with a patient, even kind, "Dean." But Dean had cut him off, not with an angry retort but a quiet entreaty.

"Dude, I'm going stir crazy looking at the same four walls and I'm better." Sam had given Dean a skeptical look at that declaration but Dean insisted. "Sam, I am and I just…need to get on my feet again, get the cobwebs out of my head."

Darn it, Sam couldn't hold the line against such need from Dean, never could. But that didn't mean he hadn't trailed closely behind Dean on the stairs, that he didn't grab Dean's elbow when his stance seemed a little wobbly. Nor did it mean he let Dean go all hardcore with a greasy breakfast.

And now, letting Dean keep his pride in front of Lydecker? Sam could do that too. Falling silent, he couldn't help send a glance Alec's way, wondering if Alec felt the tension at the table as much as he did. One look at his younger brother's face and he suddenly knew that Alec was _part_ of that tension.

As unwelcome as Dean's quiet had been, Alec was more troubled with Dean's rebuff and retreat from Sam. It was exactly how Dean reacted when he felt boxed into a corner, exposed: he pushed people away, bristled with bad humor to mask the upheaval in his gut. And the source of his brother's unease, it was easy to peg.

Dragging his eyes away from Dean's profile, Alec glared at Lydecker's bowed head. Reaching out, he ruthlessly pinned the man's hand to the table before it could carry a fork bearing egg to his mouth. Slowly, Lydecker's eyes came up to meet his, dread filtering through the put upon indignation. But before his former commander could talk, Alec glibly started, though there was a dangerous lilt to his words, "Oh, where are my manners. Donald Lydecker, this is my brother, Dean Winchester. You two have met before but I think both times Dean was _dying_." Unabashedly, he leveled the blame for Dean's precarious state to Lydecker.

Swinging his eyes from Alec's dangerous green eyes to Dean's assessing ones, Lydecker released his fork in his trapped hand and sat up straighter in the chair. "I wasn't sure if you would remember me or not." And there was no boldness in the statement, only a meek probing inquiry.

Aware that Sam and Alec were watching him, Dean tried to school his features into indifference. "Were you _unsure_ whether I would remember you or _hoping _I wouldn't remember you?"

For a beat Lydecker froze, felt the walls closing in on him as the temperature in the room dropped to nearly freezing. "Both," he answered, opting for honesty rather than an untruth that his present company would easily detect.

Taking Lydecker's words as a confession, Sam's fist tightened, hated that he had let down his guard, gave any trust to Lydecker, to someone who apparently was at the heart of hurting Dean. He didn't even realize he was coming to his feet, was about to launch himself at Lydecker until Dean stopped him, re-established the physical contact he had broken off minutes ago.

Dean was surprised when Sam's chair screeched along the kitchen floor, when Sam came to his feet, that Sam's jaw jumped and his hands were fisted. He hadn't seen Sam go nuclear too many times but he instantly knew this was going to be one of them. He was no match to Sam's strength right then, he knew that, but he hoped Sam still listened to him as he grabbed his brother's forearm, ordered, "Sam, back off."

His fury tamed by Dean's touch, Sam didn't follow through on his intensions. Standing at Dean's side, he looked down at his brother who had nearly died at Manticore's hands, for all he knew at Lydecker's hands, and silently demanded at least one good reason he shouldn't dismember Lydecker right then. When Dean steadily met his eyes, let his eyes convey his order to not do what he so badly wanted to do, Sam lowly snapped, "You heard him, Dean. He was hoping you didn't remember what he did to you!" his voice rising as the implication of Lydecker's guilt seemed to become clearer and clearer.

Dean quietly admitted, almost sheepishly, "I almost didn't," and a faded smirk found its way onto his features. Forcing himself to break contact with Sam's magnetic eyes, he landed his focus on Lydecker but his words were still for his brother. "I remember him from Manticore…and from before." Flashes of blood and pain assaulted him as the memories sharply invaded further into the forefront of his mind. He didn't know he let an outward trace of how that slide show affected him until Alec put a hand to his chest, gently said, "We don't have to talk about this now."

Though Alec was every measure of tender care with Dean, the look in his eyes as they left Dean and met Sam's was all fierce wrath. Grimly, he jerked his head toward Lydecker, giving Sam an order to get the man out of Dean's sight.

Realizing that a death sentence had come down upon his head, Lydecker stammered, "Now hold on. Wait!" he shouted as Sam started forward, the look in Sam's eyes, in Alec's gesture promising him that it would all end in a lonesome burial plot in the woods out back.

Clamping his eyes shut, Dean willed the slide show of memories to stop: Being small enough to be carried in his father's arms, his Dad's worried face looking down on him, of Lydecker's younger but colder features overhead, of being so cold he thought he was in Alaska instead of Colorado, of wondering if Dad would take Sam on hunts after he was gone or if his Dad would finally realize it was too dangerous to continue.

"No," he fiercely protested as he felt Sam slipping from his grip, as his blindly reaching hand recaptured his brother's wrist, anchored Sam to him, reacting the same way now as he had done then.

Lydecker was inconsequential at Dean's protest, was totally forgotten when Dean reached out for Sam. Instantly, Sam crouched at Dean's side, rested his hand on Dean's thigh and murmured, "I'm not going anywhere, Dean. I'm not."

"But Lydecker is," Alec vowed, his deadly intension unmasked.

"I got him back for you," Lydecker empathetically stated, as if that was all the proof required to make him an ally. "Why would I do that if I wasn't on your side?"

"Because you're just following some scenario Boris probably set up, wanted to track Dean's reactions… maybe mine and Sam's too," Alec fired back coming to his feet.

Coiling his fingers around Alec's wrist before his brother could move out of his range, Dean shouted, "Enough!" and opened his eyes. He remembered, all of it. Whether he wanted to or not.

The voices were all that kept him awake, alive for all he knew. And they were angry voices. He had never heard his father so angry before.

"You can patch Dean up, so do it!"

Lydecker's voice came next. "John he needs a hospital."

"All Zeke had was you."

"This isn't the jungles of 'Nam, Winchester. And this isn't some …some _buddy_ bleeding out, it's your **son**."

Dean didn't have to open his eyes to identify the sound he heard next, he knew it was a gun being cocked. "You're right and that's why if you don't help him right now, I'll put a bullet in your kneecap and work my way up to the good stuff."

He had protested then, but his voice came out little more than a whimper, "Dad, don't." And then a big hand settled gently on his forehead, quieted him, soothed him. And then other hands were touching him, pulling off the blanket he was cocooned in, peeling back his shirt. He thought his scream would have shattered glass when his side was prodded, but it only came out as a muffled cry. Then the touch was removed and he heard the clatter of metal upon metal of cupboards being opened and closed.

"I'm trying to make it that no more sons, brothers or friends die fighting wars. That we don't have to lose the people we love."  
The hand on his forehead slipped down his face, and callused fingers stroked his cheek as his father spat, "Spare me your I'm-building-a-better-world, rhetoric. You have no idea what's going on in _this_ world."

"I know that if I had a son I wouldn't drag him into danger," Lydecker fired the accusation

"I'm protecting him!" his father had roared back, the hand on his cheek deserting him, leaving him alone in his agony. Then he felt the needle prick and everything started to fade away.

"I tried to protect my wife, thought she was safest with me. So I was right there when she was shot, I held her in my arms as she died. And no matter how many ways I try, I can't get her back…and you can't get Mary back."

"Shut up. You don't know a thing about Mary…"

"I know that part of her is alive in your two boys. I've spent years trying to get part of my wife back and you have it right here. How can you risk losing that? Don't you care about them?"

"Don't tell me how I feel about my sons! I would die for them…"

"But you'll let them die for Mary, to get revenge for Mary?"

Dean didn't remember any more after that. Didn't want to think that it might be selective memory, that he couldn't live with his father's reply, that he had buried it deep to protect himself, to protect Sam. But his father wasn't on trial right then, Lydecker was.

"Lydecker saved my life," he blunted stated, eyes on his father's fellow Vietnam veteran. Able to detect the tension in his brothers, he released his restrictive hold on them both and swiveled his look between them. "Twice. So unless you're pissed that he helped me, that he took away your chance to get rid of me, I say you let up on the whole 'let's take him out back and bury him deep' scenario."

Alec couldn't help smirk wryly at Dean's perceptiveness. "We weren't going to bury him deep, thought the wolves deserved a good meal."

Sam wasn't as easily appeased. "But he was there in Manticore when they had you. So he didn't…._do_ anything to you?" hated to think of all that had been done to Dean, the things they knew about, was too terrified to think about the things they didn't know about, that Dean would most likely never talk about.

Sparing a quick glance to Lydecker, who still seemed on the verge of bolting for the door, Dean met Sam's eyes head on, knew that he had to spell it out for Sam if he expected his brother to ever trust Lydecker. "He didn't hurt me, Sam."  
"Dean, you can tell me…" Sam entreated, prayed Dean would trust him with the truth.

"He told them to …" Dean cut in but then he faltered, knew he was going to feel exposed if he continued.

"He told them to what?" Alec demanded, jumping on the bandwagon.

Dean sighed, let it up to his brothers to force him to have a chick flick moment. "He told them to …" he purposefully mumbled the last words.

Sam leaned in closer to Dean, gently admitted, "I didn't catch that…"

Dean rolled his eyes, gruffly admitted, "Be careful with me, alright. He told them to be careful with me when they first brought me to Manticore. Aaaannnndddd…" he mockingly drew out to tick off his brothers who were hanging on his every word.

"And," Alec curtly prodded, eyes piercing his big brother's.

Dean's eyes flick to Lydecker's, shone with gratitude, "You told me they were alive, didn't you? In the room, after I went all Edward Scissorhands on myself."

Lydecker blanched at the memories of trying to stop the blood pouring out of the young man's neck, of blood welling between his fingers. He couldn't help looking to the pristine bandage around Dean's neck now. He nodded his answer, feeling too rough for words.

Alec didn't miss Lydecker's look to Dean's bandaged wound on his neck or the way his commander paled at Dean's offhanded way of talking about his suicide attempt. It was startling, to realize Lydecker was affected by Dean's actions, maybe even a little traumatized by them. That he felt something for Dean. Compassion, maybe even protective.

"Almost too little, too late in my book," Sam hissed, furious that the man hadn't gotten that message to Dean before, you know before his brother tried to off himself.

Dean shrugged at Sam's condemnation and met his brother's gaze. "Kept me hanging on, that grain of doubt that you were dead."

"So what? We throw him a parade for letting Manticore test you, torture you before he decided to finally get you out of there?" Sam sharply replied.

Dean pulled on a smirk, "No, we throw him a parade because he saved you and Alec." His next words were directed at Lydecker, were the epitome of sincerity. "Thanks for that, by the way."

Sam stood up, threw his hands in the air in defeat and cursed. That was Dean for you, caring that Lydecker saved him and Alec and sweeping under the rug the man's actions against himself. Or lack of action, as the case may be.

"So, now that we're done with the Days of Our Lives recap, I'm assuming that, since Lydecker's still part of the merry band of men we have going here, Manticore isn't going to mark me down as the-one-that-got-away and move onto other test subjects?" Dean asked, wanting to get a handle on how things stood, what he needed to brace for next. He had been MIA for too much of the planning as it was. This all was happening because of him and he had to start figuring out a way to get them all out of it, free and clear.

The fierce, protective expressions on his bothers' faces were answer enough. Manticore was going to be coming for him. And this time, he had to be ready.

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Smugly, Sam laid down the 4 of hearts and the 4 of clubs, earning him groans from around the kitchen table.

"Fours? You win with friggin' fours?" Dean sneered, as if he couldn't believe Sam would stoop to such a tactic to win. Sam's answering smile and the way he pulled the dollar bills in the center of the table toward his previously meager stack said that, no, he wasn't below taking such a win.

Lydecker was starting to reshuffle the deck when the house shook in the aftershocks of a landmine going off. Then the sound of the security alarm ripped though the air, coming a second too late. The occupants of the house were already on their feet, ready and willing to protect what was theirs.

Pulling his gun out of his waist band, Alec shoved it at Dean, who instinctively took the weapon without question. Grabbing his brother by the elbow, he pushed Dean toward Sam, didn't release his hold until Sam secured his own on their big brother. "Sam, take Dean to the woods. We'll meet you at the truck."

"I can fight!" Dean shouted, coming to stand toe to toe with Alec.

Alec roughly wrapped his hands in the front of Dean's shirt, practically yelled in his brother's face, "We're not fighting, we're leaving!"

"Running away?" Dean's distaste for the action filling the small space between them.

But instead of denying Dean's accusation, Alec sardonically smirked, "As far and as fast as we can." Releasing Dean, he quickly looked out the west window, was relieved that none of Manticore's soldiers had gotten that far. Yet.

"We should make a stand!" Dean argued, his hand waving to the driveway and the gate a half mile away where the tripped landmine was.

Sensing Dean's intent to break free of his grip, Sam tightened his hold on his brother and entered the fray. "So you can do some stupid macho move? Yeah, not happening."

The three brothers hunkered down, Alec and Sam instinctively covering Dean as another explosion sounded, this one closer and from the rear of the house.

Cursing, Alec straightened, did a hit and run glance with Lydecker, who was standing at the kitchen window, rifle at the ready. "Their team split up."

Not certain how much that information impacted their plans, Sam hazarded, "But we're still good to go out through the tunnel?"

"Tunnel?" Dean echoed. "This creepy house has a tunnel?"

Surprisingly enough, it was Lydecker who gave a reply. "House was probably built during prohibition." His stoic input earned him three glares.

"Thanks, Professor," Dean snarkily drawled before he shifted his focus off Lydecker to Alec. "Alright, then let's all hit the tunnel, right now."

"Alec and Lydecker will be right behind us," Sam reassured, beginning to pull on Dean's arm, forcefully inching Dean closer to the basement stairs.

"But…" Dean continued to protest. Without warning, Sam seized his shoulders, his fingers biting into his skin and muscle.

"Dean, we don't have time to argue! Trust Alec…trust _me_," Sam implored as much as he demanded, knew that his words had reached his brother when Dean froze, when he gave an, albeit reluctant, nod of his head.

Looking to Alec, Dean threatened, "You better be on our heels," before he cowed under Sam's persistence, let Sam tug him out of the kitchen and prod him down the basement stairs. Dean felt like a wayward child as Sam practically towed him behind him, his brother's grip on him unrelenting and his long legs quickly eating up the basement's floor. Sam's release of him was almost abrupt, but not before Sam shoved him into the corner of the cement room, ensured that he was in a position of protection.

Leaning over, Sam pressed his shoulder against the old iron stove and, with a grunt, he began moving it across the dirt floor with effort. A rush of stale air hit him, almost gagged him, letting him know that he was making progress. Suddenly the stove moved easier and he was proud of himself, until Dean's shoulder brushed against his. "Dean!" he growled, reprimanding his brother for expending some of his slowly regained strength to help him.

"And you didn't tell me about this before because?" Dean demanded, as he came to stand at the entrance to the dank, dark tunnel, grunted as Sam shoved a flashlight into his gut.

Sam hissed, close enough that his breathe hit Dean's face, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you've been looped out on drugs and thought I was a friggin' ghost." Ruthlessly brushing by Dean, Sam was shaking his head in disbelief as turned on his own flashlight and began stalking down the tunnel.

"Ok, well…that's a good point," Dean tamely admitted to Sam's back. Giving one last look to the stairs that led up to his youngest brother, he stepped into the tunnel, left Alec behind and followed Sam's lead, did it because he did trust his brothers. Not only with his life but with their own.

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Pressing the rifle butt against his shoulder, Alec viewed the woods in the rear of the house through the scope, finger on the trigger, breath steady, even, deceptively calm. He didn't even react at the sound of Lydecker's first rifle shot. There was no room for doubts, not anymore. He had to trust Lydecker, fully. He had to believe that his former commander had just removed a threat from the front of the house, was doing his part to help them all survive.

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Dean was not claustrophobic, he couldn't be with his job, but he was more than glad when Sam pushed open a wooden hatchway and light spilled in. He didn't even mind that Sam, after securing his own escape, turned around, grabbed his hand and helped him clamor up the piled dirt into the fresh air.

But that was where Dean's good humor ended.

Seeing his brother's dark expression, Sam anxiously asked, "Dean, what is it?" A rifle muzzle brutally pressed into his back gave him his answer.

Dean raised his hands in surrender as Sam was yanked around, as his brother saw what he did: three vigilant Manticore soldiers pointing their rifles at them. Dean groused, "Tunneling our way out, yeah, super idea."

Before Sam could give Dean a comeback, the three soldiers shifted their rifles sights to him, causing his mouth to go dry. Whatever reprieve Lydecker had bought for him on his death sentence, it was being revoked, with prejudice.

"No!" Dean shouted, dodging in front of Sam, even as a rifle shot echoed through the woods.

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TBC

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And that, my pretties, is where we leave our boys. Until next time…

Have a great day!

Cheryl W


	20. Chapter 20: What Matters Most pt 12

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

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Chapter 20 – What Matters Most – part 12

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"No!" Dean shouted, dodging in front of Sam, even as a rifle shot echoed through the woods.

Fearing the worst, Sam screamed his brother's name, "Dean!" and clutched onto his brother's shoulders from behind, prepared to catch Dean when he fell.

But Dean didn't fall.

One of Manticore's soldiers did.

Before Dean could fully register that he wasn't shot, could make sense of the red that had spread across the camo jacket of the soldier closest to him, another shot rang out. And a second soldier toppled to the ground.

"Alec," Sam exhaled in relief, in near hero worship, knowing, without a doubt, that it was their brother coming to their rescue, that it was Alec's expert marksmanship that had saved Dean's life and subsequently his own.

Sending up his own thanks to Alec, Dean tracked the third soldier's movements as he sought cover from the deadly sniper attack behind a large tree trunk. Pulling his own gun, Dean gave a look over his shoulder to Sam, nodded to the left. There was a small flare of protest in Sam's eyes at being ordered to separate but he soon gave a short, displeased nod when Dean's eyes turned flinty with big brother resolve.

Guns in hand and their tread whisper soft, the brothers parted ways, each headed a different direction in the forest, would catch their prey between them like they had on hundreds of hunts before. But this wasn't like other hunts. Their opponents, they were human, could predict their reactions, had already figured out their weakness and their strengths: each other.

No, this wasn't like other hunts: Today, they were the prey.

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Alec held his breath as he pulled the trigger, did it more out of fear than obedience to his training, to keep himself steady. If he missed…they were aiming their guns at _his_ brothers, close range. And Sam was a liability, they had already proven their intentions toward him, toward both of Dean's brothers.

Sighting up the rifle's crosshairs on the chest of the Manticore soldier that was closest to Dean, he felt the rifle recoil in his arms. For a moment, he panicked, feared that his amour piercing round hadn't penetrated the soldier's bullet proof vest and then the man dropped, fell from the crosshair's view. Without hesitation, Alec swung the rifle to the left and fired another shot in only a blinking of an eye, watched as the second threat to his brothers was removed. But as he maneuvered to take out the final man, the soldier dropped to the ground and scampered behind a tree, blocking his shot. Cursing, Alec removed his finger from the trigger and swung the rifle sight back to his brothers. He only drew in a breath then, when he saw Dean and Sam alive, unharmed. The rifle trembled slightly in his grip as he lowered it, closed his eyes and sent up a fervent thank you to whoever had invented the rifle in his hands, had given him the means to protect his brothers.

Lydecker's voice was an intrusion into his girlie breakdown moment.

"Alec, they are almost at the second row of landmines," Lydecker announced, his voice controlled as he fired another round, took out another soldier that he had once stood shoulder to shoulder to track down his wayward transgenics.

Lifting the rifle again, Alec saw that Sam and Dean were splitting up, were going deeper into the forest, would soon be out of his sight. He couldn't protect them anymore, not from his position, not as a rear defense. "Stay safe," he quietly ordered his brothers before he abandoned that post and duck walked over to Lydecker's position. Giving a quick, assessing look out the window before ducking down again, he made the same determination Lydecker had. It was time for them to focus on being the front and final line of defense.

Crouched under the window, his back propped against the wall, his shoulder touching Lydecker's, Alec met his former commander's eyes and smirked, "Bet you never saw yourself going out like this?"

Lydecker's eyes were hard but without regret. "No, but it's better than I deserve. I think you and Max would agree."

Alec had the audacity to shrug, even as the final row of landmines were triggered, as some of the windows of the house shattered, as the foundation under them shook. "Might have…" Alec admitted in the spectral silence that fell, peeking his head up to look out the window, to see the scattering of bodies on the lawn and the small four man team that was heading for their front door. When he ducked down again, he held Lydecker gaze earnestly. "…even after you helped Max make her attack on Manticore. But not after you saved my brothers. Not after today." Then he grabbed a fist full of Lydecker's jacket and yanked the man to his feet, propelled them both toward the basement stairs.

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Pressing his back against a tree trunk, Dean listened to the forest, to the quiet. The soldier was on the move, he knew that, had heard the crunch of branches breaking under a foot to his west. And it wasn't Sam. He had a nearly unnerving knack for sensing his brother's presence, had started to wonder, if Sam had gotten the psychic mojo then maybe he had been gifted with spidey senses. Because he could ferret out evil with his eyes closed, could tell, with absolute certainty, that the person approaching wasn't his brother.

Sliding down to a crouch, he waited, let the person draw closer. Diving out from his cover, he fired and his bullet spun the soldier around. Rolling to the right as he landed on the forest floor, he came to a halt, his elbows braced on the forest floor and his gun stead on the target. A target that was draped over a downed tree, facedown, unmoving.

Then he sensed it, danger from above. He knew he was too late even as he rolled onto his back, raised his gun, tried to locate the threat. It wasn't his bullet that sank into the man's torso, that caused the camouflaged, patient soldier to tumble from the tree. Calculating the man's trajectory and not liking the math, Dean rolled right, barely missed being a cushion for the deadman's freefall.

Letting his head rest on the ground for a moment, Dean exhaled, "Thanks Sammy," before Sam crouched down beside him, put a hand on his shoulder.

"You alright?" Sam had been running headlong for the source of the gunfire when he had seen movement in the tree. It was a near thing, who shot first: him or the hidden sniper.

"Yeah," Dean replied. Rousing himself from his moment of respite, he began to climb to his feet, wasn't surprised that little brother thought he needed help with that. He was about to tell Sam he needed to be taken off the 'handle with care' list when a concussion of landmines echoed through the forest. He shared a worried look with Sam.

"Next to last line of defense," Sam grimly assessed. "Come on, we need to get to the truck."

"Alec…" Dean began to protest but Sam's assurance came hard on it's heels.

"Will be there."

And Dean, he trusted Sam, with his life, with his very soul, with the life of their youngest brother. "Ok, then let's get there already," he said, letting his fears crumble under the trust he had in Sam, in Alec, in the family he had fought so hard to form and would fight to his dying breath to keep.

He and Sam broke into a run, paced each other, step for step, regardless of Sam's longer leg span. They were a well oiled machine, were at their best when they were side by side, were equally determined to survive, to protect the other. But the explosion fractured all that apart.

Nearly stumbling as the ground shook, Dean spun around, sought to see the source of the explosion. Back in the direction of the house where he had left Alec, he could see fire through the trees, smoke. "Alec!" he screamed began to run back the way he had come, back to the brother he had foolishly left behind. He practically sacked Sam like a football player when his brother stepped into his path, wrapped his arms around him, proved a formidable obstacle. "We have to get back to Alec!"

"It's the last line of defense, Dean, blowing the house!" Sam shouted, needed to get through to Dean because his brother was two seconds away from breaking from his hold, from running right back into Manticore's nets. Tightening his bear hug on Dean, he shouted, "It's part of the plan, Dean!"

As Sam's words sank in, Dean stilled but he couldn't draw his eyes from the smoke billowing into the sky, couldn't suffocate the fear that Alec might not have gotten out in time, was burning alive…just like his mother, like he thought Sam had a few days ago.

Watching as Dean's panic morphed into painful vulnerability, Sam gentled his hold on Dean, softened his tone, "You really think Alec is stupid enough to piss you off, to not meet you where you told him to?" needing to lighten Dean's load and his own, because that explosion, planned or not, it put doubt in his own soul, doubt that he knew wouldn't fade away until he saw Alec with his own two eyes.

Swallowing, Dean pulled his eyes from the view over Sam's shoulder and met Sam's gaze. "We are going to have a serious talk about you two making plans without me."

"Dean, you were…" Sam defensively began.

"Yeah, working on a section eight," Dean gruffly cut in as he grabbed Sam by the elbow, spun them both back onto their previous path and began to run, Sam at his side. "But no one ever kept Klinger out of the loop."

"We're really going to argue about this, how Hawkeye trusted Klinger in a scheme to trick Frank Burns?" Sam incredulously asked, knew that this was Dean's gift, to deflect worry, Dean's own worry and his little brother's with humor, with crazy conversations. It was Dean at his big brother best.

"See, even you have to admit that they trusted Klinger, section eight, half way to the looney bin or not," Dean shot back, as if Sam had proven his point for him. But even as he bantered with Sam, his gut churned. Nothing would be OK until Alec was with them, until he knew his youngest brother was alright, until his family was together and he knew that they would be staying that way.

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The explosion knocked Lydecker from his feet. His agile partner, however, simply readjusted his walk to counter the effects of the quaking ground. Wondering, not for the first time, why he had sought to gift "his children" with attributes he couldn't have, he groaned as Alec caught him under the armpit, easily lifted him to his feet and then slid by him in the tight confines of the tunnel.

"So how many do you think were caught in the blast?" he hazarded, now bringing up the rear of their party.

"If I thought I was the lucky type, I would say all of them," Alec called back to Lydecker. Truth was, he wanted to believe that the remaining soldiers had rushed the door, that the ten second delay that he had built into the trip wire had been long enough to allow everyone to pile inside and go out in a nice inferno. He could almost hear Dean snorting in his head at his rose-colored-glasses wish. Yeah, Winchesters weren't known for their good luck.

Taking Alec's reply as a no, Lydecker chanced a look behind him but only pitch black darkness crept on his heels. For the moment, no one was pursuing them. But if he had learned anything from Manticore, it was the tenacity of an idea, of a group of likeminded individuals to guard and pursue that idea to the very ends of existence. That idea being, a superior race, a race bred, trained, programmed to do things no human could, to do unspeakable actions no human would, to kill and to die on command. An idea he had supported, rallied behind, had created practically a new life form to fulfill that dream, a dream that had been about sparing _human_ lives. A dream that Manticore and its puppet masters had mutated into a nightmare of murder and manipulation all to seize power, to control an infiltrated government, to wield their will on an unsuspecting world. He almost ran into Alec when the transgenic stopped, gripped the edges of a hatch overhead and hoisted himself up, gun at the ready.

Relieved to not find himself facing a firing squad like his brothers had, Alec pushed himself lithely from the tunnel and offered a hand down to Lydecker. Before Lydecker was topside long enough to inhale one fresh breath of air, Alec took off at a run. He could no longer quiet the worry that was flowing through him like blood. Lydecker would just have to lag behind, bring up the rear.

Alec had a rendezvous to make.

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Roughly grabbing Sam's arm, Dean yanked his brother to the right, forced him down to crouch at his side. Their labored breath loud to their own ears, they scanned the forest around them. Then they allowed themselves to focus on the SUV parked under the canopy of trees. Their escape route.

"It's too easy," Dean whispered, looking to Sam, wondering if his brother's spidey senses were going off as much as his at the seemingly deserted rally point.

"Easy?" Sam lowly snorted. "What part of this has been _easy_?"

Dean shook his head, admitted with a tinge of vulnerability in his tone, "I don't know it just….doesn't feel right, Sam. They had to have seen the truck and they didn't keep someone posted here!"

"Maybe they didn't think we would get this far," Sam wondered but doubt was creeping into his tone. He trusted his brother's instincts too much to ignore them. And the next second, he was moving at the same time Dean was, unsure if it was his brother's unease he was reacting to or his own.

In synch, the Winchesters swung around, their guns searching for a target a beat before another voice intruded on their conversation.

"They've underestimated us before," Alec smugly boasted, easily grabbing both of his brothers' gun hands before they were in a position to shoot him first and ask questions later. Smiling at their astonished, relieved expressions, he smart mouthed, shaking the hands in his grip, "I gave you guns to use on the bad guys, not me."

"You're hilarious," Dean tersely growled, ripping his hand out of Alec's grip but his unmitigated happiness at Alec's presence was rolling off of him. Together, his family was together.

"Like him," Alec said, whipping his gun to the right and shooting a soldier that was circling the truck's perimeter. "There will be another coming from the east. Two man unit," he imparted as he trained his gun in that direction. "He'll wait now, won't break cover until we head for the truck."

Before Dean could outline his plan, Sam tersely announced, "Fine," and sprinted out from the cover of the tree and ran for the truck. Cursing Sam's recklessness, Dean watched his brother's progress, flinched more than Sam when the shot came, nicked a chunk of wood out of a tree not two inches from Sam's head. And then Alec deserted him too, ran to the right, already calculating the shooter's location from the shot the soldier had made.

Reaching the truck, Sam pressed his back against the driver's door and kept his head below the window. As he held his hand up to order Dean to hold his position, he could read Dean's scowl of displeasure across the distance that separated them. His breath caught suddenly as a single gunshot echoed through the maze of trees.

"Clear!" Alec shouted as he approached the truck from the west at a jog.

His heart rate finally calming down as Alec reappeared, as the threat to his two brothers was taken out, Dean almost reacted too slowly. Spinning around, he almost squeezed the trigger, almost shot Lydecker as the man made his way sluggishly through the forest toward his position, the older man's breath heaving and his steps faltering.

Lowering his gun, Dean slowly exhaled, regained his mental equilibrium before he stood up, greeted the late comer. "Dude, my Dad could have run circles around you," he taunted with a bark of laughter.

"John said he liked having someone slow like me in the unit," Lydecker said, continued as he passed Dean on his way to the truck. "It meant he wasn't going to be the last one in the helicopter."

Dean smirked and shook his head, sounded like his Dad. Then he made his way to the truck, was the last one there and found he was relegated to the backseat. He opened his mouth to rightfully demand his driver spot, but two voices barked.

"Backseat."

Glaring at Sam seated behind the wheel and Alec occupying the passenger front seat, Dean yanked open the backdoor and slid into the seat behind Sam. "Great, two bossy brothers, just what I DIDN'T ask for," he mumbled under his breath as he slammed the door.

Ignoring Dean's grumpiness, Sam threw the truck into reverse, backed it around between two towering trees and then set it into forward motion down the rough trail that would lead to the country road lining the forest. All four occupants bounced in the SUV's interior as the tires sank into ruts and climbed over downed branches. But they kept a vigilant watch out the windows for further threats.

There was no roadblock waiting for them where the trail met the expansion of blacktop and there was none in sight as Sam pushed the truck odometer to seventy five on the two lane country road. But the sense of urgency to be gone from where they once were didn't dissipate, instead it grew stronger with each mile.

Reloading his gun, Dean broke the silence that had fallen for the past half an hour. "I don't mean to state the obvious but they found us. And I've got to wonder how," his eyes skirting to his fellow backseat occupant. "Any theories on that, Lydecker?"

"A few," Lydecker darkly admitted. He had begun to think along those lines himself. But he had not wanted to voice them, not yet, not until he had more evidence to back up his theory.

"City, Interstate or keep to the backroads?" Sam suddenly asked, causing Dean's focus to shift to the view outside the SUV's windshield, to the signs overhead, the choices laid out ahead of them.

"City," Dean decided, liked his odds in a crowd loads better than on a busy interstate or in a town with a population of two hundred. And without further discussion, Sam barreled off to the right, put them on a straight path to the nearest city. Turning back to Lydecker, Dean pressed, "And those theories would be?" a threat carrying in his tone, backed up by the dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Crap! We've got trouble ahead!" Sam shouted, even as he wrenched the steering wheel to the left to avoid the oncoming car that had suddenly crossed the yellow line and swung to a stop lengthwise across their lane of traffic. But even as Sam went into the lane of oncoming traffic, the car blocking their path backed up. Sam clipped the rear of the car, spun it a half turn.

Passing the obstacle, Sam stomped on the gas. He spared a glance in the rearview to see the car starting to move, to take up pursuit. "They're coming!" he warned, refocusing on the road ahead, to whatever else Manticore threw at them.

Alec, Dean and Lydecker all swiveled in their seats to watch the car gaining ground on them.

Knowing that an SUV wasn't their best vehicle to race in, Dean tersely instructed his brother, "We can't outrun them but we can knock them off the road. Get onto the freeway and when they get beside us, put them into a concrete barrier, Sammy."

Nodding, Sam tightened his grip on the steering wheel, coached himself that he could do this because everything he knew about driving, he had learned from Dean. And that was saying a lot. Fighting the urge to look in the rearview mirror more than through the front windshield, he maneuvered around the cars he came upon on the two lane road. And then he saw the turn off for the freeway. Running the red turning light, he ignored the honking horns, barely missed broad-siding a small car that looked like it belong in the Europe and barreled onto the freeway.

Dean chuckled as Manticore's driver ran into the side of a water truck in his attempt to grab the exit to the freeway. It wasn't a surprise to him that Sam could outdrive Manticore's best, but it was really nice to have the point rammed down Manticore's throat. "We have some time, Sam. Our friends got into a little fender bender."

Drawing in a relieved breath, Sam flexed his fingers on the wheel. "Can we expect more company?"

"Yes," came from Alec, Dean and Lydecker.

As if to prove that point, Alec watched as a dark sedan entered the freeway behind them, slammed into a car to make it's way onto the highway traffic. "We got another contestant, coming up fast. Dark sedan, far left lane."

Deciding that the farther away they were from the threat the better, Sam changed lanes, got in the far right lane. He practically pushed the cars in front of him until they took the hint and got out of his way. Trusting that his brothers would give him the running commentary on the progress of their friends behind him, he concentrated on what lay ahead.

"Ok, they are coming up on your left, Sam. I'll tell you when they are at your back wheel base," Dean said, watching the car approach, the way the driver plowed ruthlessly into or around the other occupants of the freeway. '_Bet this guy enjoyed earning his manslaughter-by-vehicle merit badge.'_

Quicker than Dean anticipated, the Manticore driver rammed and wrecked the cars in his path to earn himself a spot only a few hundred feet in their wake. Trouble was, the driver wasn't stupid enough to get beside the SUV. "He's not going for it Sam. He's right behind us," Dean got out before the sedan careened into the back of their vehicle, snapping their necks at the impact. The car slammed into them again, harder.

Using his vehicle's weight to its advantage, Sam stomped on the breaks, enjoyed the harsh jolt when the lighter vehicle behind him struck the back of the SUV with brutal force. Shifting the SUV into reverse, he gave it gas, pushed the sedan backwards on the highway… right into the path of an oncoming tractor trailer. At the last moment, Sam threw the SUV into drive and punched the gas, was determined to put as much distance between them and the sedan before the truck hit the car.

The sound of metal contorting metal ripped through the air as the truck struck the Manticore vehicle. Sam spared a glance in the rearview in time to see the sedan flipping through the air, kissing the unforgiving pavement on side, then front, than roof. Satisfaction zinged through him as he returned to the view in front of him, hastily yanked the wheel to the right and crossed three lanes of traffic to catch the exit into the city.

A hand squeezed his shoulder from behind. "That was _awesome,_" Dean praised, smiling, met Sam's eyes in the rearview mirror.

Glowing under Dean's praise, Sam couldn't help return Dean's smile. "So, we're in the city. Any suggestions where to go?"

Lydecker spoke up for the first time. "I think we need to stay on the move."

Turning to Lydecker, Dean coldly accused, "And there's a reason for that, isn't there." Because he knew in his gut that Lydecker wasn't showing all his cards, that Manticore's former favorite son knew how they came to be playing crash up derby on the freeway.

Forced to accept that he couldn't hold back his conjectures any longer, Lydecker rubbed his hand over his mouth, knew that he was about to put a great big dark shadow over their victories of a few days ago, of his victory of getting away with betraying Manticore for the second time.

"SUV to your right!" Alec called out the warning barely in time for Sam to swerve left, to evade the other SUV's intent to T-bone them in the city intersection. But as it was, the Manticore vehicle hit them by the rear wheel, plowed into their SUV with incredible force.

Suddenly, Sam found himself falling to the left, knew that the vehicle was tumbling over as if in slow motion. And then, as if someone threw a switch, it turned into fast forward. The view out the windshield spun wickedly from sideways, upside down, sideways, upright. But it didn't stop there, the SUV kept rolling another few rotations.

And it was too familiar for Sam: the crunch of metal on metal, the bone breaking impact, the absolute surprise followed by utter terror. Dean had practically been pulled from the Impala's wreckage DOA last time.

"Dean!" Sam frantically shouted as the vehicle rocked slowly to a stand still, as he clawed at the seatbelt restraints that kept him pinned into his seat, kept him from seeing if Dean was alive, kept him from finding out if he had killed his brother for real this time. "Dean?" he screamed, his voice echoing in the confined space, mocking him with its solitude.

Dean Winchester had been bred to do a lot of things, had been trained to do even more, but only one thing came inherently to him: responding to the voice calling his name now, reacting to the fear in that voice. Barely re-emerging from his little dip in the unconscious, he mumbled, "Present," as if it were a roll call he was replying to.

"Thank God," Sam breathed, closing his eyes and sagging in the upside down position he was in. "Alec, you OK?" he suddenly asked, hand blindly reaching to the passenger seat until it came into contact with his little brother's lithe form.

"Define, OK," Alec grumbled as he released his seatbelt and landed on the ceiling of the SUV. "Lydecker, you alive?"

"Yeah," Lydecker replied as he kicked open his door.

Having already shoved his door open, Dean crawled out of the vehicle on all fours, didn't react to the shards of glass sinking into palms and knees as he made his way to the front seat, to his brother. When he got his first sight of Sam, he worriedly asked, "Crap, Sam. Are you alright?" because the right side of his brother's face was coated with blood. Gently reaching inside the upside down vehicle, he gripped Sam's shoulder, needed that physical connection even though Sam's eyes steadily met his own.

Instead of answering his inquiry, Sam reached out, cupped Dean's cheek and demanded, "Are you hurt?" Because he could still see it: Dean in the backseat of the Impala, bloody, not moving, barely drawing in a breath. Dying.

Detecting the emotional edge Sam was teetering on, Dean didn't brush off Sam's concern, didn't say what he wanted to. '_I'm not hurt but you are_.' Gripping Sam's wrist, he gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm going to be walking like an old man tomorrow but I'm still in one piece."

A smile pulled onto Sam's pale features. "Like you don't already walk like an old man."

"I can leave you in here, you know," Dean taunted, even as he released his grip on Sam's wrist and reached around his brother's waist, searching for the seatbelt release. Only to find that it had gotten dented in the crash. "Ok, we're doing this old school," he announced as he pulled a knife from his boot and sawed through the seat belt.

Freed of the seatbelt, Sam, even with Dean's hand trying to catch him, tumbled to the SUV's ceiling with a groan. "Little warning would have been nice," he grumbled, found strong hands were helping him scoot out of the vehicle. He didn't protest at all when he found himself laying on his brother's knees instead of the street. Looking up, he smirked into Dean's concerned features that were hovering over him. "Well, don't hold back. Tell me how I should have zigged instead of zagged."

Dean returned his brother's smirk but shook his head. "Nope. We just shoulda had a friggin' tank."

"I like the idea of a Hummer, in red," Alec supplied, coming to a crouch by his brothers. Reading the look in Dean's eyes, he supplied, "Guys in the SUV aren't moving." The deadliness in his eyes alluded that he had a hand in that outcome.

"Can you stand?" Dean asked Sam anxiously, didn't like that they were sitting out in the open, were vulnerable.

"Yeah," Sam guaranteed, though everything was spinning and that was with him being still, sprawled out on his brother's lap like a kid. Interpreting the hesitancy in Dean's eyes to believe his claim, he pointed out, "Only one way to find out."

Sliding an arm around Sam, it was Alec who levered Sam to his feet, steadied him when he swayed. Alec watched as Dean used a strip of his own shirt to gently wipe away some of the blood on Sam's face, headed the liquid off from running into their brother's eye. Then Dean wrapped the fabric around Sam's head, over the shallow but long cut on Sam's forehead.

Slipping behind Sam, Dean tied the makeshift bandage, made sure it wasn't too tight before he skirted around Sam. He couldn't fight the chuckle as he got a look at Sam. "You look quite rakish, Sammy. Maybe I should pull it lower, cover up one eye, let you do the whole 'Pirates of the Caribbean' thing," and he raised his hand slowly as if to do just that, was relieved when Sam had enough spunk to knock his hand away.

"Jerk," Sam name called but some of his awful tension was abating, was being beaten down by his brother's antics.

As if they needed a voice of reason, Lydecker joined their group with a statement of the obvious. "We've attracted a lot of attention. We need to leave the scene. Now."

"And you call me Captain Obvious," Sam mumbled to Dean, earning him Dean's grin and a quick pat on his chest. And then they were in motion, Sam leaning against Alec and Dean taking point with Lydecker bringing up the rear of their four man group. The gathered crowd of onlookers parted as Dean strode forward and Sam wondered what expression Dean was sporting to get such a reaction.

Cutting through an alley, Dean scanned the landscape ahead, noted the public bus stopped at the end of the alley, the heavy traffic beyond, the pedestrians flowing steadily down both sides of the sidewalk that they were heading towards. It was the best place for them. They would get lost amid the bustle of the city. But part of him knew how naïve he was being, that they weren't going to lose Manticore's trackers. Not all of them.

Stepping out into the sidewalk, he halted, waited onto his brothers and Lydecker joined him in the sunlight. He purposely chose to watch the city go by them, to not meet Sam or Alec's eyes as he announced, "We need to split up." Because it hurt him, even saying it, suggesting it. It wasn't what he wanted but he knew it was what he needed to do. For his family.

"No. No way!" Alec heatedly refused, unconsciously tightening his grip on Sam, on the brother that he had a physical hold on, could assure wouldn't slip away.

Giving Alec a 'you know this is for the best' look, Dean stepped forward, used his fearsome presence to scatter the pedestrians in his path. It was unthinkable, what he needed to do: to leave his brothers behind. But he knew in his heart that it was the only way. His Dad had realized the same thing, had left him high and dry while he went on his revenge trip, had done it to keep him **safe**._ 'Yeah and you know how that felt, how well it turned out,_' came unbidden to him, the sharp, pain of being abandoned by his Dad returning, turning his insides out.

Catching sight of more of Manticore's soldiers three blocks ahead, Alec reached out, snagged the back of Dean's jacket to bring his brother to a halt. "There are two ahead. They haven't seen us yet."

Though Dean's eyesight couldn't match Alec's, he didn't doubt his brother's warning. And if there were two ahead, Dean didn't doubt that there were more reinforcements lurking out of sight. As he quickly scanned their surroundings, a set of stairs snagged his attention and a plan started to emerge. A plan Sam and Alec wouldn't approve of, at all. "Subway," he snapped, breaking free of Alec's grip as he cut through the people on the sidewalk and went down the stairs leading to the subway.

Without hesitation, Dean crossed over the platform to the cop positioned on the other side of the turnstiles, spoke through the bars of a door. "I'm an undercover cop. We're being pursued. I need backup," he curtly announced, his eyes unflinchingly meeting the law enforcement officer's.

Apparently his declaration, along with Sam's bloody features and the expression Alec and Lydecker were wearing sold his story, lock, stock and barrel because the officer opened the door and ushered them through to the other side of the turnstiles. Then the cop started to speak on the radio snapped to his shoulder, ordering backup to his location.

Pulling his small group to the side of the platform, Dean reasoned, "If we stay together we're all going to get caught. They are after me. I'll lead them away."

The only thing holding Alec back from stepping up toe to toe with Dean and shaking his brother was his need to keep hold of Sam, to make sure Sam stayed on his feet. So he had to let his raucous tone of voice convey his outrage. "And I said no!"

Calmly, Dean continued as if Alec hadn't spoken, "They catch you or Sam and they'll kill you both. I'm not going to let that happen," resolve screaming from the seven words, matched by the glint of steel in his eyes as they clashed with Alec's.

"And we're not going to let them take you away again," Sam spoke up, voice raising at the thought of anyone even _trying _to take Dean away from him again, from him and Alec.

Shifting his look to Sam, Dean clarified, "I'm not talking about surrendering. I'm talking about dividing and conquering, splitting up their numbers."

"What good did splitting up ever do for us, Dean?" Sam heatedly threw back, twenty examples of how disastrous that always turned out coming to the forefront of his mind.

Taking umbrage at Sam's tone, at his brother's implication that he was stupid for making the suggestion, he scathingly retorted, "Oh, I don't know, Sam. You're the expert at leaving people behind."

The very air seemed to leave the huddled foursome at Dean's accusation. It was Lydecker who dared to break the quiet. "Can we have this family drama session later, when we're not running for our lives?"

Turning together, the three Winchesters snapped, "Shut up!" before they dismissed the fourth wheel in their midst.

Taking a steadying breath, Alec began, "We just need to find someplace…"

"To lay low," Dean sardonically finished. "We already did that." He knew that he didn't need to remind them their last hideout was probably still burning, that there were how many bodies scattered around the property line and the highway.

"Then we keep on the move," Sam quietly but firmly restated Lydecker's earlier suggestion.

Turning warm, concerned eyes onto his younger brother, Dean broke out his gentle tone, "Sam, you're hurt." And he knew whose fault that was, _his_. There was no way he was going to let Sam or Alec get killed because of him.

"I'll keep up," Sam vowed, straightening away from Alec's support, wanted to show Dean he wasn't a liability.

Dean shook his head, not in disagreement but despair. "I meant you need to sit down, let us look at your head, get the bleeding to stop," his tone broadcasting his worry, his guilt, his regret that he was pushing Sam hard, an injured Sam. That he was pushing them all hard…into an early grave.

"I'm fine," Sam declared, jutting out his chin defiantly.

"Really," Dean sarcastically challenged, as he ran his hand through his hair in frustration before he admitted, "Cause I'm not," hopelessness leaking from his voice.

"Dean," Alec gently said, throat thick at Dean's transparent vulnerability.

"Check if they're gone," Dean ordered, cutting across whatever comfort Alec wanted to offer him, comfort that he knew he didn't deserve. When Alec remained immobile, when he could see the reluctance in his brother's eyes to drop their conversation, he nodded toward the stairs, indicated the street above.

Though he hadn't really known what to say in light of Dean's pain, Alec knew he didn't want to push it under a rug, pretend that he didn't know the edge Dean was tightwalking. But Dean was right, they needed to protect themselves from the physical threat they were facing right then. He had to concentrate, to let his Manticore training guide him, not his heart. Turning around, he went through the barred down and bounded up the stairs that lead back to the street even as the subway car came to a screeching halt in the station.

Closing the space between them, Dean reached out, gripped Sam's shirt. And it was torture, seeing the affection in Sam's eyes. "I trusted you and Alec, Sam. Now you have to trust me."

"You know I do, Dean," Sam quickly pledged even as warning bells started going off in his head. Instinctively, he began to reach out to Dean, to claim a purchase on his brother. But his hand gripped air as Dean pulled back, escaped his reach.

"Stay with Alec, Sammy," Dean ordered, his eyes full of apology. Then he turned around, shoved Lydecker through the subway doors before jumping through them himself a millisecond before they closed.

"Dean! No!" Sam shouted as he stumbled forward, watched as the subway car lurched into motion, began speeding down the tracks.

Leaping down the remaining five steps, Alec jumped over the turnstiles and ran beside the moving Subway car. He pounded on the last door but it refused to open under his assault. Running out of platform, he skittered to a stop inches before he would have ran into the wall. Helplessly, he watched the subway car carry his brother away from him. Turning around, he felt even worse when he saw Sam, read the stunned heartbreak on his brother's pale, bloody features. He knew that, however hurt and confused and angry he was over Dean's desertion, it was hitting Sam worse.

Suddenly Dean's words to Sam replayed in Alec's head. '_You're the expert at leaving people behind_.' And he didn't know that part of Sam, had never witnessed that aspect of his brothers' relationship, had only known Sam's unflappable devotion to Dean. But something in Sam's eyes, it told him that Dean had been right, that Sam once had the strength to leave behind the people that he loved. A strength that was proving useless against the agony of being the one left behind.

When Sam's shattered look flickered to him, Alec read the plea in his big brother's gaze. Sam was demanding that he get his brother back, their brother back. In that moment, Alec knew that Sam couldn't endure being left behind, not anymore than he could. Stalking back to Sam, he growled out a string of profanities even as he pulled out his phone, dialed Dean's number, angrily clicked it off as it went to voicemail. "When we catch up to him, I'm going to kill him myself," he furiously vowed aloud, kept silent what would come before that action. '_Right after I'm done making sure there's not a scratch on the dumb, self sacrificing jerk_.'

Stunned at the turn of events, at finding himself shoved into the corner of the subway car, Dean Winchester's face inches from his own, Lydecker opened his mouth to protest but Dean's forearm cut off his breath, pressed hard enough on his larynx to make talk impossible.

"They are definitely tracking you or me," Dean snarled, oblivious to the spectators to his tête-à-tête with one of Manticore's minions. "You better hope to _God_ it's me," he darkly hissed, the deadly gleam in his eyes promising imaginable retribution if Lydecker had betrayed them, was even, unwittingly, being used as a pawn to get to them.

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TBC

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See, no evil cliffie this time. I can be nice.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	21. Chapter 21: What Matters Most pt 13

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

Author's Notes: As you've probably noticed, I didn't get this story finished yet, not in December for Christmas, not in January for the 'ah you just missed Christmas' and now here in February. So, I hope you can forgive me for the Christmas references in the story, because, as I've mentioned before, this storyline was supposed to happen near that time of year.

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Chapter 21 – What Matters Most – part 13

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Stalking back to Sam, Alec growled out a string of profanities even as he pulled out his phone, dialed Dean's number, angrily clicked it off as it went to voicemail. "When we catch up to him, I'm going to kill him myself," he furiously vowed aloud, kept silent what would come before that action. '_Right after I'm done making sure there's not a scratch on the dumb, self sacrificing jerk_.'

Sam wasn't prepared for Alec to plow into him the next second, to slam him against the subway's far wall. But before he could ask if Alec had forgotten which big brother he was furious with, he saw what Alec had: three Manticore soldiers.

Having caught sight of the soldiers, Alec instantly sought the shadows for himself and Sam. Immobile, he watched as the cop pulled his gun on the soldiers as they descended the stairs, told them to freeze. But they didn't freeze, at all. Instead, the two men flanking the soldier in the lead leaped down the remaining three stairs and quickly and deftly disarmed and knocked out the cop. There would be no more help from that quarter.

Pressing Sam against the wall, hoping that the small throng of people waiting for the train would conceal them, Alec kept his eyes trained on the soldiers, would engage them the instant he knew they were discovered, would protect Sam with his life. But the soldiers only gave a random visual scan of the gathered commuters, were instead focused on an electronic device the leader of their three man unit held.

Straining his enhanced hearing, Alec easedropped on their conversation, felt his heart drop as the implications became clear.

Gathering his energy to attack or to flee, Sam watched the men, saw, as Alec had, that their attention was drawn, not to their surroundings anymore, but to whatever information was being shown on the electronic device in the soldier's hand. Then, in synch, the soldiers raised their heads, not to his and Alec's location but to look down the tracks in the direction Dean and Lydecker had sped. The one soldier stalked to a subway map, pointed out something on the plastic display and then the Manticore soldiers just _left_.

It should have been good news, a victory: Dean escaping Manticore's clutches, them not thinking that he and Alec were left behind. But Sam knew in his gut that it wasn't good news, was just the opposite.

"They're tracking Dean," Alec stated, a jump to his clenched jaw.

"Ah, yeah, noticed that back at the house," Sam drawled. He wished that Alec would step back, give him some breathing room. After all, the danger had passed for them and besides that, he didn't need his little brother thinking what Dean did, that he needed _protecting_.

But when Alec's eyes met his, he knew that his brother was still on high alert. "No, I mean, they have a tracker on Dean."

It wasn't a welcome thought. "Or on Lydecker," Sam said dangerously. "If he double crossed us…"

"If he has, Dean's put himself right in their hands," anger building in Alec's words as he stepped back, freed Sam from his protection. "Us splitting up, what a colossal stupid thing to do!" he railed, running his hand through his hair. Turning his back to Sam, he looked down the tunnel that his brother had disappeared through. And he expected to hear Sam's agreement with him, counted on it. When it didn't come, he slowly turned around to face his brother. "What? Don't you think so?" accusation and incredulousness dripping in the inquiry.

"Course," Sam agreed distractedly, his eyes skittering away from Alec's.

"But?" Alec pressed, coming back to stand inches from Sam.

Knowing that his opinion wasn't going to be popular, Sam inhaled and then met Alec's blazing green eyes. "Splitting up, it let us prove that they were tracking either Dean or Lydecker. And it kept us…" Sam didn't want to verbalize the rest. It was so Dean, the part of Dean that made him so furious most of his life.

"Kept us what?" Alec demanded, felt like he was pulling teeth getting Sam to talk to him, to let him know what he was thinking.

"Safe," Sam couldn't hold back the bitterness that resonated in the one word. For Dean, that was the end game, to keep his family safe. And there wasn't anything, _anything_ he wouldn't do to achieve that. Even if it meant sentencing himself to Hell…or ditching his little brothers in a city subway station when a whole army was after him.

Alec didn't reply, couldn't. Because he didn't want to redirect his anger to Sam, to someone who had been left behind as much as he had. Instead he redialed Dean's number and redialed it and redialed it. On the fifth try he broke down and left a message. "Dean, Manticore has a tracker on you or Lydecker. I think they know which subway line you took so watch your butt when you hop off that train." he hurriedly supplied, needed Dean to watch his own back until he was there to do it for him. Then, adopting his trademark carefree tone, he tagged on, "And, of yeah, there's one more thing…if you don't call me back in five minutes, what I'll do to you will make your days with Manticore look like a spa retreat, OK?" Then he viciously stabbed his finger onto the phone's screen to end the call.

Worried that if they jumped on a subway it might just take them farther away from whatever rendezvous point Dean would suggest, Alec decided, "I say we take this topside."

Sam, amid his swirling apprehension, couldn't hold back a smirk."Like a spa retreat, huh?" he goaded, saw Alec do a little embarrassed shrug before grabbing him by the elbow and tugging him to the exit.

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"They are definitely tracking you or me," Dean snarled, pinning Lydecker to the Subway wall. "You better hope to _God_ it's me," he darkly hissed, the deadly gleam in his eyes promising imaginable retribution if Lydecker had betrayed them, was even, unwittingly, being used as a pawn to get to them.

"I didn't think it would work," Lydecker wheezed out under the crushing pressure of Dean's forearm on his larynx.

Pressing harder against Lydecker's throat, Dean demanded, "Didn't think **what** would work?"

Meeting Dean's eyes, Lydecker revealed, "The tracker they put in your blood stream."

Cursing, Dean shoved away from Lydecker and ran his hand over his mouth. Course it couldn't be something he could get to, something in his clothing or just implanted under his skin. Singeing Lydecker with his gaze, he gruffly said, "And you only now thought to…I don't know, telling me I'm a walking G.P.S. signal."

Not willing to entertain the entire subway with their talk of secret genetic research, Lydecker stepped closer to Dean and dropped his voice to a low murmur. "Like I said, I didn't think it would work on you." At Dean's raised eyebrow expression of 'yeah, keep going' he closed in more space between him and Dean, made sure his words didn't carry farther than Winchester. "After the breach in their Seattle instillation, Manticore devised a tracker for all of it's transgenics. It was injected into their blood stream but it would only begin working after it integrated with the transgenic's mutated red blood cells." When Dean's brow furrowed, Lydecker knew the other man was starting to put the pieces together. He saved him the trouble. "It wouldn't work on a normal human and I didn't think …"

"That there was enough of Alec's blood still in my system to latch onto," Dean finished, frustration evident in the flash of his eyes, in the slump of his shoulders. He didn't wait for Lydecker's confirmation, didn't have to. Of course Manticore would find a way to screw him by using Alec's blood, by turning his little brother's devotion to him against him, against them all. With blood. Ironic didn't cover how that hit him in the gut. Not one to wallow in despair at a few setbacks, Dean turned to the expert he had at his disposal. "Ok, so it's in my blood,"' because his blood was Alec's as much as Alec's was his, as much as Sam's was theirs. "Ok, so how do I turn this beacon thing off? Take a good hit off a defibrillator; lose a few pints of blood? What?" He couldn't believe he was talking about deliberately _losing_ blood after Alec had graciously donated his blood to keep him alive.

Lydecker's grim expression was answer enough.

"Well there's got to be something I can do to turn this thing.." he waved his hand down the length of his body, "_off."_

"It was designed to track transgenics that escaped. Do you think Manticore wanted them to have a way to turn it off?" Lydecker caustically returned, frustrated that Winchester was asking him for the impossible.

Sinking into a seat, Dean watched as another subway train flew by them in the tunnel, couldn't believe that they had come this far only to fail. It made his decision to leave Sam and Alec easier. Manticore may be dialed into his location but they were never getting their hands on his brothers again. That was a promise he was going to keep.

'_How? When you know what Sam will do if Manticore takes you back? What __**Alec**__ will do? They wouldn't leave you there and you know it. They will devise some stupid kamikaze stunt to try and rescue you and get themselves killed in the process. No, __you__ need to rescue __you __so they don't have to_.' Reaching out, Dean grabbed Lydecker's wrist and yanked the man into the seat beside him. "Fine. So does this tracker have a shelf life?"

Lydecker's features brightened. "Manticore was confident they would easily track down the transgenic by three months."

"Wow. Just three months with an army hot on my trail. Awesome," Dean bitterly drawled, mind swirling with the probability of outrunning Manticore's GI Joe squads _today_, let alone for eighty-nine more days.

But Lydecker's was doing his own calculations. "But it wouldn't be that long for you, not since its only bonding with remnants of Alec's DNA."

"So how long? Your best guess," Dean asked, felt like he was holding his breath, torn between hope and despair.

Not sure if he was really delivering good news, Lydecker supplied, "It could be just a couple weeks…or it could be a month."

Slowly a wolfish smile pulled onto Dean's lips. He had alluded the FBI way longer than that. '_Except for the part where you put yourself in prison right where Hendrickson could find you_,' a voice that sounded like Sam taunted in his head. And then there was the time Bella dropped the dime on them, told Hendrickson right where they were. '_And Manticore will know____where you are every second of every day_' came a thought that dripped with Alec's smart aleckness.

Shaking his head, trying to dislodge his killjoy thoughts, Dean latched onto the slim hope that he could do his version of the Cannonball Run, could keep one foot ahead of the commandoes on his tail. "Why didn't you say so. Keep on the run for a couple days, even a month, I can do that. I've practically been on the run my whole life."

But Lydecker wasn't reassured by Dean's brazen statement. Grabbing Dean's shoulders, he gave the younger man a shake. "We are not talking about being hunted by some local town sheriff or even the FBI who's willing to assign **two** agents to your case. Manticore's resources are extensive."

"Yeah, I figured that out when I won their vacation package to a torture center nearest me. And, oh yeah, I think I counted a few more than two at our reunion at the house," Dean sarcastically wisecracked, hated when someone thought he was an idiot, or naïve or both.

Unruffled by Dean's caustic tone, Lydecker spat, "Try thirty."

"And how many are still left, huh? I think only enough for an all-hands-on-deck hockey team," Dean returned, knew that, between him and his brothers and Lydecker, they had decimated Manticore's forces. He felt pride swell at what they had accomplished, hoped Boris got the message loud and clear.

Lydecker dropped his hold on Dean, leaned back in the seat, an air of defeat falling on him. "Boris will send more. Manticore isn't known for cutting its losses, just ask Alec."

"Are we talking transgenics? Mini me?" Dean asked, hoped the tinge of fear didn't carry in his tone. He wasn't chewing at the bit to go another round with 492. And he didn't want Alec to face off with his evil twin either. Because, if there was one thing Dean knew, it was darkness and 492 had it in spades, making the transgenic a more deadly foe than White could have ever strived to be.

"No," Lydecker firmly replied. "Boris would need a special requisite to use trangenics and he wouldn't get it."

"He got it before," Dean challenged, wasn't likely to forget the memory of 492 walking into his motel room and promptly garroting him.

"Boris was able to use 492 because he insisted that he was invaluable to the success of his experiment, that you had to think he was 494, that you would only be compliant if you believed you were helping Alec. In my opinion, Boris wanted to know if 492 would follow his directive to not kill you."

"I'm alive…but that's nothing he did wrong," Dean muttered, absently rubbing the bandage on his neck. "So Boris, he's not the big man on the Manticore campus?"

Not sure where Dean was headed, Lydecker slowly answered. "No, he's just a cog in the wheel."

"So he has to go through channels, obtain someone's approval to unleash the armies of Middle Earth."

Not bothering to try and understand Dean's weird reference, Lydecker clarified, "He has a number of men at his disposal. But once they are deployed, he would have to get approval from the committee to get reinforcements."

"And would they give him the go ahead?" Dean pressed, eyes meeting Lydecker's.  
Stunned at the question even as he was impressed that Dean had the foresight to ask it, Lydecker contemplated his reply, took into account all he knew of Manticore's procedures, of the committee members aversion for the Manticore name bandied about in headlines, of their divided support of Boris's experiment. "No," he answered in surprise but with utter conviction. No, Manticore would only back Boris' play so far before writing off his failed experiment…and him. "If Boris doesn't get you back, if he can't prove his experiment works, they will shut his project down."

"I like the sound of that," Dean drawled, a beaming smile emerging on his lips at the thought of Boris' experiment going up in flames, of Boris panhandling on some street corner. "So, how many of Boris' lackeys can I expect to drop in on me over the next month?"

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Alec dodged into an alley when his phone rang. Yanking Sam in with him, he held the phone between them before he answered, spoke at the same time his caller did.

"They're tracking you!"

"They're tracking me."

"Great, mystery solved. So tell us where to meet you," Alec replied in his best no nonsense tone.

"No," Dean tersely shot back, knew that he had to shut down Alec's suggestion at the jump.

"Ok, what part of "they are tracking you" did you not understand," Alec heatedly threw back, hand tightening on the cell phone in his grip.

"They are after me, not you guys. I want you two to stay out of harm's way."

Sam nearly gritted his teeth. He had heard that declaration from his brother before. "Dean, come on. I didn't want you to go after Gordon alone, you really think I'll give you the OK to take on a battalion of Manticore thugs on your own."

"Well that's the advantage of being the oldest, I make the decisions…"

Sharply, Alec broke in, reminded, "No, **we** make the decisions, as a family. And we stick together, no matter what. That's the company line that you've been selling me. Or does that only apply when you want it to?"

Before Dean could refute Alec's words, Sam lambasted him too.

"We're stronger together, that's what you told Dad."

"Alright! Alright," Dean growled. "Stop quoting me to me."

Sensing a victory, Alec demanded, "So where and when?"

Thinking on his feet, Dean spied an advertisement on the ceiling of the subway. "Music Festival on Grant Street in an hour. Meet by the food stands."

"Be careful," Alec ordered.

"My middle name is careful," Dean boasted and then he disconnected the call, left his two brothers huddled in an alleyway listening to the fading echo of his voice.

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Sam breathed a sigh of relief when Alec entered the diner's bathroom. "What took you so long? That one guy was creeping me out."

"What, you almost got a date?" Alec wisecracked as he sat a bag onto the sink rim, began pulling out the bandages and peroxide that he had purchased from the pharmacy next door.

"You're about as funny as Dean," Sam deadpanned. Lifting the papertowel from the gash on his forehead, he scowled in the reflection of the mirror as blood instantly welled again from the wound.

"Oh, I'm funnier," Alec corrected, reaching out and carefully turning Sam to face him. He pressed a peroxide soaked sterile pad against the wound, winced when Sam hissed in pain but didn't relent. "Shirt's a goner, 'less you're going for that grunge look." His eyes skimming down to the blood spattered shirt Sam was wearing.

"Sorry I'm not up to your GQ standards right now," Sam snapped back, felt shamed when Alec reached into his mystery bag and pulled enough of a white shirt out to hover over the bag's lip like a puppet. Sam reached for the shirt but Alec pre-empted him by dropping the shirt and catching his hand.

"Wait to put it on until after you're beautiful again," Alec ordered.

Sam's eyebrows cocked at the compliment.

Certain that Sam was backing down, wasn't showing the stubbornness that Dean would, Alec released his hold on Sam's hand and met his brother's surprised look. "What? You think we should be _humble_ about our looks?" he challenged with a light laugh before he shook his head. He couldn't believe how different Sam was to Dean, to him. But it was a good different.

Sam couldn't fight a smile. "No, never humble. That would be wrong."

"Exactly," Alec agreed with a cocky smile of his own before he refocused his attention on his brother's wound. "This sucker just keeps bleeding."

"I can .." Sam began, raising his hand to replace Alec's hold.

But Alec refuted gently, "Chill. I've got this," as he deftly replaced the soaked red sterile pad with a new white one.

"So, this is life on the run for a transgenic?" Sam conversationally began.

"Fun, isn't it," Alec mocked, felt guilt surge through him. He had never wanted to drag his brothers into his Manticore nightmare but it just seemed to happen, again and again.

Sam chuckled darkly, "Loads. So Max…she escaped Manticore when she was a kid?"

Tracking where Sam's mind was going, that his brother was striving to grasp some glimmer of hope, Alec sighed and met Sam's eyes. "Ten years. She's been running from them for ten years. Course she wasn't **LoJacked.**"

"Is that what Dean is, LoJacked somehow? It's not his clothing, our phones…" Sam began to check off.

"Manticore isn't that impersonal," Alec bleakly cut in, wished that he didn't have examples of just how _personal_ Manticore liked to make things. Afraid that Sam would force him to recount those ways, he said, "I think this is finally letting up." Lifting the pad, he smiled for Sam's benefit, threw the pad away and washed his hands of his brother's blood. Digging again in the bag, he came out proudly with butterfly bandages. With skill, he closed up the wound and stepped back to examine his handiwork.

Before Sam could turn to the mirror, could check out his injury for himself, Alec's fingers were back, this time armed with a wet papertowel, swiping gently at the blood stained skin around his wound. "You're good at this," Sam quietly said, watched as Alec's eyes met his and then flickered away as if the words were an insult instead of a compliment. "You and Dean, you both put on this gruff show but you're two of the gentlest people I know."

"Gentle? I used to kill people for a living Sam?" Alec bitingly countered, focusing on the persistent blood marring his brother's skin.

"Dean would say so does he," Sam voiced softly, a tinge of hatred for the necessity of what Dean had to do, what they had to do.

"Mine weren't all monsters USA," Alec contemptuously shot back, angry that Sam thought to group his actions in with theirs, that Sam thought to whitewash the innocent blood on his hands.

Not willing to back down, Sam stated with quiet conviction, "Not everything that we kill was always evil…looked evil…"

Alec stilled, but there was tension radiating through him. "Is this the conversation you want to have, _now_? You want to make me some kind of _saint_, Sam?"

It was almost like he was talking to Dean, had run into one of Dean's Fort Knox walls. And he had never known how to go on, how to burrow under the wall or jump high enough over it, could only do what he was doing now: lapsing into silence.

When his belligerence shut Sam up as it was meant to, Alec thought he would feel relief, didn't expect to feel like a monster incarnate. Pulling the white t-shirt out of the bag, he held it out to Sam like a white flag of truce. For a moment, Sam didn't move, held his gaze like he was going to say something…and then he gave a small smile signifying that the truce terms had been accepted.

Watching Sam shrug out of his coat and unbutton his shirt, Alec pointed out, "I still need to get one of them" tapping the tattoo on Sam's chest.

"What? A chest to put a medal on?" Sam offered obtusely, threw in a forced chuckle for good measure. His attempts to deflect Alec crashed and burned under his brother's hot glare.

"You know what," Alec insisted darkly. "I think you and Dean facing off with one of my evil twins proves my point _for me_. Me getting possessed is not a scenario we want to risk." He was carrying enough guilt over the fact that Sam and Dean had left down their guard because they thought it was him trying to kill them in that motel room. He would not put his brothers in that position again, afraid to protect themselves because they refused to hurt him.

Sam pulled on the shirt and hedged, "Alec, we've talked about this…" wishing Dean was there to back him up.

"Yeah, and now it's time to just let me do it," Alec adamantly shot back.

Sam sighed, knew that he had to express Dean's wishes in his brother's absence. "Dean doesn't…"

"Want me marked as hunter. So I've heard," Alec supplied with irritation and disparity. "Thing is, I am a hunter."

"Today, yes but…"

"When you two give up the rocksalt, iron round accessories, then so will I," Alec defiantly declared, pulling to his full height, daring Sam to tell him that he couldn't stand at his and Dean's side.

"It's more than that," Sam said achingly. He knew, better than anyone, what it was like to have choices…and have them taken away from him, to be left with…only one path to travel.

"Like what, Sam? You planning on skipping out on me too?" Alec goaded, voice rising with his indignation.

Sam stilled, forgot to draw in a breath as his eyes met his brother's furious gaze. "You mean like I did, Dean," more a statement than a question, could see the distrust growing in Alec's eyes, distrust of him, of his loyalties. Then Alec turned away from him, busied himself with shoving all their trash in the bag.

Unable to find any justification for his past actions to offer to Alec, Sam returned to the matter at hand. "You already have one bull's-eye on you, Alec." Reaching out to his brother's turned back, he tapped the barcode at the base of his brother's neck lightly with his fingers. "We're not letting you add another," his voice husky and tried but resolute. They would not put Alec in more danger than he already was, that he and Dean agreed upon.

Something eased in Alec at Sam's light touch, at his brother's unearthed logic, at the realization that his brothers' refusal, it wasn't that Sam and Dean thought there would come a day that they would not want him with them. It was just the opposite. He swiveled to face Sam. "It's my choice. And I think the pros far outweigh the cons."

"Dean doesn't," Sam bluntly stated.

"And you?" Alec prodded, could sense that Sam was purposefully toting Dean's slogans instead of his own.

Sam bit his lip and dropped his eyes from Alec's perceptive inspection. Dean didn't know what it felt like to be possessed, to be made to hurt his own brother. He had been trapped inside, had a front row seat to Dean being shot by his own hand. Sam didn't think he would come out sane if he had done something worse to Dean.

Alec's breath caught when Sam looked up, when he saw the ravaged expression in his older brother's eyes, when he heard the hurt in his brother's voice.

"The tattoo, it was my idea. I couldn't…live with that fear hanging over my head."

"That you would get possessed again," Alec clarified even as he questioned.

Nodding, Sam swallowed, forced the words out of his constricted throat, "I didn't want to be used as a weapon against Dean ever again."

A sharp pain speared through Alec. "You mean like my Manticore fraternity did a couple days ago?" bitterness resonating through every word he spoke.

"Alec, that wasn't your fault."

Seeing his opening, Alec forcibly stated, "No, but if I get possessed and I could have prevented it, that will be my fault."

"I know," Sam hoarsely agreed, knew that they were out of other options, that if Alec stayed with them, if they wanted to keep him safe, if they wanted him to trust himself with them, they had to let him in, fully.

"So you'll help plead my case with Dean?" Alec asked with hopefulness, knew that winning Sam over didn't mean Dean would capitulate.

"Ok," Sam sighed, knew the battle that lay ahead but would wage it for Alec, because, they were family and even when they didn't agree, they had to at least accept each other's decisions. "Now can we get out of here before creepy guy comes back?" he grumbled, pointing a hand toward the bathroom door.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you Sammy," Alec joked as he headed for the door, Sam at his heels.

Sam slapped Alec on the back of the head for his comment, but to his irk, it only produced laughter to burst from his genetically enhanced little brother.

Sam and Alec heard the music festival long before they saw the crowds gathered on Grant street, saw the stage and the performer belting out Silent Night like it was a rock song he made popular. Sam followed Alec's lead, was in the wake of his brother's headlong pace, pushing, maneuvering, charming his way through the crowd toward the hot dog wagon in the east section of the taped off section of the street.

'_Figures Dean would want to meet us at the food stand,_' Sam thought, couldn't help smiling, felt eagerness flood him. Reaching the food vendors, he and Alec stood shoulder to shoulder and scanned the crowd, attempted to lay eyes on Dean. Each second without a Dean sighting felt an eternity, had Sam telling himself that Dean was alright, that his family was soon going to be together again, that Dean, he wasn't like him. His big brother didn't run away from his family, took long drives to cool his temper, stayed out all night with questionable companions, but he always came home, always returned to him, never left him. It just wasn't in Dean to abandon his family.

"Lydecker," Alec announced as he spied the commander's approach, eyes tracking the perimeter around the man, searching for Dean. And not finding him.

Head snapping right, Sam sought out Lydecker's familiar figure, found him. "Where's Dean?" an edge of fear lacing the two words.

The gnawing dread in Alex's gut intensified as Lydecker spotted him, as his eyes met the older soldier's gaze. Without a word to Sam, Alec began shoving his way forward toward Lydecker, tried to quiet the rampant fear that was throwing a thousand questions at him that he couldn't answer, didn't want to answer. He didn't even realize Sam was at his back, had followed closely in his wake, not until his brother spoke to Lydecker before he could wet his dry mouth enough for speech.

"Where's Dean?" Sam demanded, voice tight, breath restricted as he slid in beside Alec, stood before Lydecker, a Lydecker who was markedly alone.

"He sent me to meet you. He's not coming," Lydecker bluntly answered, knew enough about missions going awry, unfulfilled expectations to know that beating around the bush was just a waste of time and energy.

"What?" Sam stammered, didn't understand what Lydecker was saying, what he was implying.

Not wasting time interrogating Lydecker, Alec pulled out his cell phone, called Dean…and heard the rift of music coming from Lydecker's hand. A hand that held out a phone, Dean's phone. Punching the cancel button on his phone, Alec angrily snagged the phone from Lydecker's palm.

"He said he would be in touch after he's safe, once the tracker wears off," Lydecker delivered the communiqué and braced for the backlash, cursed Winchester for making him be the bearer of bad news. He watched the two men, saw that their reactions were polar opposite. That where stunned hurt came off of Sam Winchester in waves, livid anger blasted from Alec.

"This is just great! We just got him back and now he just ditches us!" Alec snarled, turned his back on Lydecker, on Sam, hoped they were blinded enough by his anger to not see his fear, to realize how close he was to coming apart.

"What's his plan?" Sam quietly directed at Lydecker, knew his brother well enough to know that Dean always had a plan, sometimes bad ones, almost always reckless ones, but always plans.

Alec threw over his shoulder, "You mean besides letting us blowing in the wind?"

Meeting Sam's intense gaze, Lydecker supplied, "I told Dean that the tracker in…his blood would only give off a signal for a few weeks, maybe a month. He thought he could keep on the run that long." Nervously, Lydecker shot a glance to Alec's tense back, hoped that the transgenic hadn't picked up on his stumbling hesitation. He had promised Dean that he wouldn't reveal that the tracker was bonding with Alec's blood in Dean's system, that Alec would not have any reason to blame himself for however things turned out.

"On the run. Alone," Sam bitterly repeated, couldn't believe Dean was doing this, was making the same decision that their father had, a decision that had done nothing but lose time that he could have had with his father, time his family could have spent _together_.

Lydecker couldn't keep his disapproval for Dean's "plan" out of his tone, didn't even try. "Yeah." Then he drew in a breath, provided, "Right now Boris' remaining men will be requesting backup so that will buy Dean some breathing room."

"To get as far away as he can," Alec concluded, couldn't shut down the little voice in his head that tacked on '_from Manticore…and from Sam, from __**me**_.' And, for as often as he had once contemplated leaving his brothers for their own safety, it pissed him off that Dean had done just that, had done what he hadn't, what Dean had fought against _him_ doing, that Dean had pulled one of his infamous 'do as I say not as I do' stunts.

Turning around, Alec pinned Lydecker with his determined gaze. "Alright, so you hit up your contacts, get us looped into the tracker on Dean."

"So we can track him." Sam recognized and wholeheartedly agreed with Alec's intentions.

Lydecker grimly shook his head. "It's not like I had many allies left, and the ones I did have in Boris' organization…they are probably dead now."

Lydecker's excuse didn't give Alec a second's pause. "Then make new ones. Call me with Dean's coordinators as soon as you have them," and he began stalking by Lydecker.

"You don't want much do you?" Lydecker sarcastically bit out as Alec passed him by.

Alec smiled brazenly at Lydecker, "My commander used to say that there is no such thing as the impossible."

Then Alec and Sam melted back into the crowd, left Lydecker standing there, talking to himself. "Kid _enjoys_ throwing my own words back at me…"

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Alec was in a hurry…and he had no where to go, knew that Sam was keeping up with his headlong pace believing that he had a destination, a plan, wasn't just aimlessly plowing forward, wasn't lost. After all, he wasn't alone, he had Sam. Sam hadn't ditched him, hadn't even held him accountable for all the crap heaped on their heads because of Manticore, had just…remained at his side. Sam _trusted_ him.

Halting abruptly, Alec swung to face Sam, needed to confess that he didn't have a clue what to do now.

"I can't believe Dean is pulling the same crap that our Dad did. Is running out on us to keep us '_safe'_," Sam's last word dripped with bitterness but Alec could detect the hurt underlying them, knew that Sam's unfocused gaze across the street and not on him was Sam's way of attempting to hide it from him.

"Thought you were OK with that before, Dean keeping us safe…" but Alec felt shame spike in him even as the words left him, at the bitterness resonating in them. Sam wasn't the one that he was mad at.

"Ok with it? No. Understood why Dean would do it? Yeah. But that was when we were going to just split up for an hour or so, not …." Sam broke off but he couldn't derail his thoughts as easily. '_Forever_.' Because Dean's plan, it _sucked_. Had a chance of success of…well not much. And Dean knew that, had to know that. Dean wouldn't have left them behind if he thought he was actually going to make it out of this one alive.

Seeing Sam's mask begin to crumble, knowing that his brother's thoughts were making the same conclusions that his own were, Alec closed in the space between himself and Sam, lowly promised, "We'll find him, Sam. We will."

Sam's eyes clashed with Alec and he contemptuously challenged, "Before or after he's dead."

His brother's words delivered a direct hit, cut through the bullcrap shield Alec was hiding behind.

For Sam, there was no satisfaction in seeing Alec flinch, in watching the pain flare in Alec's eyes. And when Alec turned away from him, walked away from him, he silently cursed his own defensive mechanisms. Mechanisms that either caused the people he loved to walk away from him, or had him packing his bags and leaving them behind. And it came to him sharply, how crappy it was to be the one left behind, how badly it _hurt _being abandoned by the people you loved, who you thought loved you enough to never leave you. Bowing his head, he choked out, "I'm sorry," wasn't sure who he was apologizing to: Dean for all the times he had left him or to Alec for his words now.

Alec fisted his hands to keep himself from shoving people out of his path, wanted to outrun Sam's words, to outrun his own fears. He wanted to go somewhere that the pain wouldn't reach him if the worst happened this time. He gave a dark chuckle, knew he scared some people on the sidewalk when they cleared a path for him. What Boris wanted to create, a mindlessly obedient, emotionless transgenic, that didn't sound so bad right then. No guilt over wrong decisions, no gut wrenching fear, no pain….no family, no love, no brothers.

Abruptly, Alec halted, knew that he would take the guilt, the fear, even the pain in exchange for what he had been blessed with, for just the gift of being with his brothers for even another day. That it didn't matter if it ended even that day, it had been worth it, they had been worth it.

Sam didn't register Alec's return, not until his brother spoke.

"When Lydecker calls with Dean's coordinates we have to be ready to move. Dean'll probably have a few hours head start on us so we'll need to make it up on the road."

Slowly, Sam raised his head, met Alec's determined gaze, could tell that his brother wasn't going to allow him to push him away anymore than he was going to let Dean slip away from him, from either of them. "Dean will pick a fast car…."

Alec let a slow cocky smile emerge. "Well, then we'll just have to make sure our car's faster."

Recognizing the Winchester stubbornness in Alec's eyes, Sam felt renewed hope grow in him. "And what, you have a Lamborghini in your back pocket?" he asked with a small chuckle, was realizing that no one was leaving anyone anymore, not in this family

Alec's smile beamed brighter as he pulled out his phone, hit a speed dial and opened the conversation with, "Logan, its Alec. I need a fast car to go along with my newly repossessed home."

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TBC

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Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	22. Chapter 22: What Matters Most pt 14

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

Author's Note: In my defense, I had this chapter ready to go two weeks ago but the site just wouldn't let me post it. Taking that as a sign, I reworked the chapter, split it into two chapters instead of one and started penning the next. Hopefully, in the end, this chapter is better than what you would have gotten from me two weeks ago!

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Chapter 22 – What Matters Most – part 14

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At heart, Dean wasn't a city guy. He had had a lifetime of going from place to place to realize that. Sitting in a mom and pop diner in some small town, strolling down a sidewalk that was mostly empty 24/7, sacking out in motels along a highway that barely saw any traffic, that was where he felt most at home. So it was almost disconcerting when he stepped out of the subway car and found himself in the throng of people. '_Safety in numbers'_ wasn't his catch phrase. Not unless those numbers included his family. Which today, they didn't. They couldn't.

Shutting down any lingering doubt about his decision to go solo, to leave his brothers safely behind, he concentrated on using his height to scan his surroundings. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or uneasy when no soldiers came into sight. Good news seemed a trap in and of itself. What if they weren't chasing him because they had leverage to get him back: namely one or both of his brothers. '_No, Boris is done playing chess moves_,' he reassured himself. '_Boris wants me back and they are coming for me, not Sam or Alec_.' And he was almost convinced. Almost believed that his brothers were now out of harm's way, except that he knew his brothers, knew that they wouldn't take being sidelined well, would try and do something reckless, thinking that they were saving him. '_Well they have no moves to make. I took them out of the game and they are staying out of the game,_' he resolutely vowed, his fear burning away more of his reservations.

He was doing the right thing. For everyone.

Climbing the subway stairs, feeling the sunlight on his face, he inhaled the fresh air, grounded his thoughts and blended into the pedestrian traffic of the city, became just one man among the many. One man that just happened to have a secret government agency tracking him through a GPS chip in his genetically enhanced blood which was donated to him by his transgenic clone brother so that agency could create a mindless super human soldier.

'_Yeah, I'm just a normal guy taking a stroll in the city, nothing freak-like about me,' _he jeered, knew that, as a kid, he had given up the dream Sam still clung to: the dream of being normal, of having a normal life. He was what he was: a freak, a hunter, but most of all, a brother. And that meant more than all the rest, meant that he would do whatever he had to do to keep his family safe, to find a way to get back to his brothers, to not let them down. Even if he had to do the Cannonball Run for a month, he would outrun Manticore…and his brothers if necessary. Because having to make painful decisions to save the ones that he loved? That wasn't new to him.

At four years old, he had carried Sammy out of their burning home, had abandoned his father and mother behind in the blaze, to maybe _both_ die. And he had let his father rot in Hell_, _hadn't done a _thing _to get him out. When he met his first crossroad dealmaker, he bartered to spare a _stranger's_ life instead of his own father's.

Could a son betray a father worse than he had? He didn't think so.

Maybe that was why he refused to fail on the brother front, to let Sam down again, to allow Alec to be hurt. He wasn't winning son of the year..he knew that. But he could still snag brother of the year, would do whatever he could to keep Sam safe, to keep Alec safe. Even if they hated him for it. But crap, that hurt, the thought that his brothers couldn't see that everything he was doing was for them, to protect them. That it wasn't for him, wasn't what he wanted, ever wanted. To abandon them, to cut himself off from them, to maybe never see them again.

The honk of a car horn jarred him from his thoughts, had him stopping inches from stepping into the path of a turning car. Standing still, he watched the car pass by him, pull haphazardly into a no parking zone and the silver haired man angrily leap from his car and stalk into the municipal building.

Suddenly, Dean felt as if fate had decided to repent a little for her cruelty.

Crossing over to the car, he ran a loving hand along the red, shimmering paint on the car's hood and smiled. "You're a beauty," he purred to the 1967 Chevy Stingray Corvette. Shooting a look to the door of the municipal building, he didn't see the Vette's owner re-emerging, guessed that he was in there either paying or contesting a parking ticket or a driving violation. Unobtrusively, he looked around his perimeter for possible spectators to his grand theft auto. But he had forgotten, he was in a city not a small town. In the grid blocks of civilization, everyone tried to mind their own business, kept their eyes down and their curiosity in check.

Pulling on the car door, he smiled when it opened right up for him. It was almost too easy but he wasn't in the habit of looking a gift horse in the mouth. Sinking into the driver's seat, he had the car hotwired in seconds.

As he merged into the congested traffic, he wondered how long it would take the car's owner to realize that his car had been stolen, not towed by the city. '_Long enough for me to be a couple states away when he does_,' he confidently thought, gunning the engine and slipping by the slower city traffic, his mind already planning his next move.

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Sam peered through the iron grid gate in front of the three million dollar home. "They are in default? Really?" he challenged, turning to his brother who was, no doubt, casing the joint with his high powered eyesight.

"According to Logan, the bank is about to foreclose on their house if they don't come up with some loan payments. And their car," Alec pointed to the green two-tone 2006 Ford GT parked in the circle driveway, "is already slated for repossession." Smugly, Alec met Sam's worried expression. "Consider this our civic duty."

Before Sam could point out that they weren't planning on giving the car to the _bank_, Alec leapt over the gate and blurred toward the Ford.

Using his Manticore training and Winchester finesse, Alec disarmed the car's alarm, hotwired the Ford and even located the remote for the gate in less than twenty seconds. He couldn't resist giving Sam a self satisfied smile as he pulled to a stop at his brother's side. "Up for a ride?"

Quickly getting into the car, Sam didn't have a chance to reply before the car bound forward. Alec apparently was determined to test out the car's ability to go from zero to one hundred fifty miles per hour in sixteen point nine seconds. "You do realize we don't know which _way_ Dean went yet, right?" he caustically drawled, earning him a glare from Alec. But a few moments later, his brother tacked down the engine until they were going a speed at least marginally close to the speed limit.

"Lydecker better call soon. It's been three hours," Alec growled in worried frustration, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. Tension sang through him at the thought of how far Dean could have gotten in that amount of time, that maybe Manticore already had their hands on Dean, that maybe, here he was, busy stealing a car when Dean was….

"Hey," Sam gently called, wanting to wipe away the anguish from his little brother's features.

Surprised when Sam cut into his thoughts as if he could read them, Alec looked to his brother and instantly knew that Sam didn't need to read them. Sam was plagued by the same troubling worries that he was.

"He'll call," Sam reassured for Alec's sake. His own hope? With every second that he was parted from Dean, his hope dwindled and his dread climbed. It never ended well: him and Dean splitting up, them _being_ separated. Though it had taken him years filled with harsh proof to learn that lesson. '_Why can't Dean see that, too?_'

"Lydecker could be running for his life, could be letting us high and dry," Alec voiced his rising fear, knew that Sam was placing trust in Lydecker because of him, because Sam trusted his instincts about his former commander.

"He could have run before but he didn't. He met us at the festival of his own free will," Sam pointed out, didn't know what it said that Lydecker had shown at their meeting and Dean hadn't.

Alec fell silent at Sam's defense of Lydecker. He felt a measure of relief that Sam was trusting Lydecker because of h is own instincts, that his brother wasn't just basing his trust on his sometimes blinded judgment.

Hoping that Alec knew he wasn't taking Lydecker's side over his, Sam bit his lip, traded off watching Alec's strained features and the city landscape zooming by the Ford GT passenger window.

Out of the blue, Alec muttered, "I should have seen this coming," slamming the steering wheel with his palm.

"Alec, you couldn't have..."

But Alec shot Sam a glare, cut him off midsentence, "Yeah, I should have. You two did the same thing to me before, left me in TC while you went off trying to break Dean's deal."

"We were trying…

"To protect me? You know what, Sam. That's not good enough!" Alec fired back, his anger easier to show than his fear. "I had no idea if you were alive or dead, if you were getting close to breaking Dean's deal…if I was even going to get to say goodbye to Dean…or even to you."

"We didn't do it to hurt you," Sam quietly stated, knew that their intensions…they were for the best. Just like Dean's were today.

"Well, you did," Alec bitterly hissed, wasn't going to pretend anymore that he was made of stone, that he could take all the fear and hurt without something down deep breaking. No matter what Manticore wanted from him, wanted him to be, he felt things, he hurt, and he loved, too darn much. "I let you two …_in_…and you just…left me. You might as well have given me a condescending pat on the head when you walked out of TC."

"It wasn't like that!" Sam retorted back, finding his own anger breaking free. "We wanted you safe."

"_Safe_," Alec gave a scoffing, dark laugh. "I'm a friggin' transgenic soldier, Sam! I wasn't bred to be _safe_. Leaving me behind in TC, not letting me get the stupid protective tattoo, Dean ditching me now, it's just….stupid."

"Sorry that our caring for you is pissing you off!" Sam venomously tossed out, the volume of his voice rising with his temper. "And for the record, Dean didn't just ditch you today, he ditched me too."

"By the sounds of it, that's fair turnaround, huh?" Alec goaded, shooting a challenging look to his brother. "Dean leaving this time instead of you."

"Don't," Sam warned, a dangerous glint in his eyes as they collided with Alec's.

"Oh, so it's OK to rag on Dean for bailing but your fondness to leave your family behind, that's not fair game? Maybe this is the opening you've been waiting for? This is your chance to go back to college, to be free of Dean…and of me."

Turning in his seat to fully face Alec, hot words rush out of Sam like a flood. "You think because you got an _honorary_ membership into this family that you know _me_, that you know _Dean_? That you know what our lives have been like! Well, you don't."

Yanking the car to the side of the road and slamming it into park, Alec spat, rage pouring out of every line of his body, "Honorary membership? Honorary? I would die for you or Dean. I left a woman I love back in TC to be with my _brothers._ I abandoned the other transgenics because I selfishly wanted to be normal, to have a family, a real one. Well I thought it was real."

Regret washed over Sam, taking his breath away. He never wanted to hurt Alec, to imply that Alec wasn't his brother. But when he was hurting, one thing always seemed to come naturally to him. To pass the hurt along. "Alec, I didn't mean…" he began, reached out, grabbed Alec's forearm. He felt gutted when Alec's wary gaze met his own. "It is real, Alec. You are a part of this family, you are my _brother_. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry…stuff that comes out of my mouth sometimes…"

Alec curtly nodded, pulled his look from Sam back to the view outside the windshield, tried to believe Sam's last declaration more than his brother's accusations.

Releasing his grip on Alec, Sam slumped back to his side of the car, leaned his head against the window but he kept his gaze on Alec. "I didn't leave for anything as honorable as trying to protect anyone," he admitted, regret and recrimination in the soft tone. "I left because…I did want to be free, of our father's rules, of hunting…of Dean."

Alec's head snapped right at Sam's admission, fully expecting to see some lie in Sam's eyes. But there wasn't any. Sam was telling the truth. "Why?" The word coming out of Alec before he could stop himself, tell himself it wasn't his right to ask. But there were a thousand more questions that he left unspoken, '_How could you leave Dean? What made it so unbearable, to be loved, to have a family?'_

Sam swallowed, knew that Alec deserved to know how wretched a creature he was, just the type of person that he thought he wanted to claim as a brother. Regret and shame and truth carried in his hushed admission, "I wanted normal. I wanted safe. I wanted… a life."

"But Dean…"

"Was part of the world that I wanted to leave behind."

"You were young…" Alec began, needed there to be more reasons, better reasons for Sam's actions.

But Sam shook his head. He didn't deserve the excuse Alec was offering him. "Last year, before …before Dean's crossroad deal and you and everything, I left Dean. I told myself it was to keep him safe, to search for answers…but I …I didn't leave him a note, didn't call him, just….walked out the door in the middle of the night."

Part of Alec wanted to shrivel up and die. The view he had of his family, of his brothers, of the bond that they shared, it was a mockery, it wasn't real. He had only seen what he wanted to see, needed to see.

Reading the heartbreak and disappointment in Alec's eyes, Sam shifted upright in the seat and leaned toward Alec. "But Dean, he didn't let me go. He tracked me down…again and again, forgave me and accepted me back with open arms. Just like he tracked our Dad down. He always believed enough in family to keep us together. Heck, even being in a coma didn't stop him from refereeing between Dad and me."

That caught Alec's attention. "And how's that?"

"After the car accident, when Dean was in a coma, Dad and I were arguing in my Dad's hospital room and this ..this water glass went flying off a table. It stopped our fight cold." A bittersweet smile stole across Sam's features. "It was Dean, there in spirit, still fighting with his last breath to keep our family together, to keep Dad and me together. Course he put himself into cardiac arrest doing it," he sardonically revealed, his tone a fond reprimand.

Alec smirked, felt a swell of pride in Dean. "Sounds like him. Too stubborn to be sidelined and too stupid to worry about himself."

"Yeah," Sam agreed with an affectionate laugh. But it quickly faded away to a concerned frown. "Makes me a little glad he's not here right now, didn't witness us…that," his hand waving the air between them.

A flash of matching shame shown on Alec's features. "Yeah. Sorry. It's not like I'm the best person to judge loyalties. I didn't get why Max and her group were so desperate to get away from Manticore. I thought Manticore was doing the right thing, that I was the one of the good guys," self disgust carrying in his words.

"And Dean and I were raised to hate anything not human."

"Which kinda includes me," Alec ruefully admitted.

"Yeah. And me, the psychic wonder," Sam parried back, a soft smile turning up his lip.

"And Manticore wants Dean because he's _normal_. Guess we're screwed no matter which side of the coin we're on," Alec sighed, wished that he could have seen all this coming, could have found a way to steer clear of this particular head on collision.

"I think it has something to do with our family," Sam stated, made sure Alec knew he was part of that family and that he was going to have to take the lumps with the rest of them.

"Don't suppose you know another tattoo to ward off bad luck?" Alec joked.

"If there was one, I would have inked myself years ago," Sam drawled, some sparkle returning to his eyes.

Alec was about to make his comeback when his phone rang. Trying to not get his hopes up that it was Dean, he dug his phone out of this pocket. His heart skipped a beat at the "unknown number" lighting up the small screen. "Yeah," he answered, voice choked, breath held, fingers coiled tightly around the cellphone.

"It wasn't easy but I got a bead on Dean," Lydecker's voice seeped into Alec's ear.

As much as Alec tried, he couldn't fight the ache that surged through him at hearing the voice that wasn't Dean's, at the realization that it wasn't Dean on the phone, that it wasn't his brother calling to end their separation.

Sam didn't need to hear the voice on the other side of the phone line, could tell by the disappointed slump in Alec's shoulders that it wasn't Dean.

Trying to rally at the good news that Lydecker's was delivering, Alec demanded, "What's his location?"

Having to placate himself with only hearing Alec's side of the conversation, Sam intently watched Alec nod his head.

"Got it. Keep your contact on speed dial."

But whatever Lydecker's reply was, it had Alec scowling, biting out, "Well he should have thought about that before he started working for a butcher like Boris," before he ended the call.

Tossing his phone into the middle console, Alec flashed a smile to Sam that he knew didn't quite come off as cocksure as he wanted it to. "Dean's on Interstate 34, going south. Fast."

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He had forgotten his susceptibility to loneliness. Especially while driving. Not in the Impala. Without his favorite bands blasting from the speakers. The vette's owner hadn't seen fit to clutter the car with even an IPod, and the samplings on the radio sucked, badly. Though he couldn't find a classic rock station, emo-rock was alive and well.

And then there was the empty passenger seat. The quiet at his back.

"You chose this," Dean grumbled aloud, needed to hear at least one voice in the confines of the vehicle to keep himself sane. Irked at his own weakness, at being so pathetically needy, he turned on the radio and blasted the present generations version of hard core music.

But the ghosts that haunted him remained. The ghosts that weren't there but should be: Sam slumped in the passenger seat, Alec sprawled out in a back seat that didn't exist in the sports car.

When life became too much, the only thing he knew to do was to become one with the highway, to go somewhere that he had never been before, to allow himself to pretend to be someone that he would never be. Someone who didn't screw up, someone who could choose a path of less resistance, someone who could run and never look back.

So he put the petal to the metal, pushed the car past the hundred mile-per-hour mark, and then some and prayed that, when it was all said and done, he was doing the right thing.

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"Alec," Sam warned, hand bracing the glove compartment while the other gripped the seat under him. At seemingly the last second, Alec swerved around a yellow Yaris, passed it like it was roadkill. Sam contemplated closing his eyes, would have if he thought he wouldn't end up hurling. "I would really like to be _alive_ when we track down Dean," he caustically drawled, pulling his eyes away from the highway ahead to shoot his brother a petitioning look.

"Relax, I've got instincts faster than a speeding bullet," Alec boasted, abandoning his focus on the road to give his brother a winsome smile.

"Truck. Truck!" Sam exclaimed, pointing at the lumbering eighteen wheeler that they were fast approaching.

With almost a careless twist of his wrist, Alec slid the Ford into the passing lane and zoomed by the truck, tauntingly diverting his eyes from road to Sam and back again all during the maneuver.

Having had years of reading Dean's moods, of knowing when the car was flying and the mullet rock music was loud and Dean was silent that his brother was troubled, Sam applied the same detective reasoning on Alec, knew that Alec had his own tells.

An Alec who was all cocky talk, was brazenly risky, smiled too much with eyes too dark meant that he had a scared little brother on his hands.

Dismissing his worry about surviving the next encounter with a ton of metal that was shaped into a car, Sam dropped his frantic grip on the car's interior and turned to face Alec. But he didn't speak, waited until Alec's hit and run gaze on him turned apprehensive.

"Alec," Sam began, his voice gentle, knew that if it were Dean he was talking to, his brother would be giving him a glare already, would know, just by the way that he said his name, that some sentimental outpouring was about to assault his macho sensibilities. But Alec didn't have those instincts, was openly meeting his gaze, seemed to ache to hear what he had to say.

And that only made it harder for Sam, knowing that Alec wasn't like Dean, that Alec welcomed comfort, craved it. '_I wish I was better at it_,' Sam thought before he drew in a breath and exhaled, found the words a few seconds later. "We're going to find him, Alec. We will. Before Manticore does. Because they may have a tracker on him but I…_**we**_ know Dean. We know the kind of gas stations that he likes to stop at, how long he can drive without a break, where he parks the car at a restaurant to keep a low profile and what he would consider a good staging area for a battle."

Alec wanted to cling to Sam's assurances, knew that his brother was right, that Manticore may have their gadgets but he and Sam had their knowledge and instincts. "Course there is one problem with us knowing Dean…" he paused, waited until Sam tilted his head in confusion. "He knows we know him. And he's trying to keep us away from him almost as much as he is Manticore."

"Well, it won't work," Sam stubbornly vowed, turning to face forward in his seat.

"And why's that?" Alec pressed, a teasing tone filtering into the question.

Sam shrugged, mumbled almost petulantly, "Just won't." But a moment later, he added a terse addendum. "Unless your driving turns us into scrap metal on the asphalt."

A smile quirked up Alec's lips. "I would probably survive," he bragged even as he tacked the engine down, allowed the scene out the windshield to slow down from hyperspeed to a moderate hundred and twenty cruising speed.

"And I would end up turning into the 6 Million Dollar Man," Sam sallied back, caught Alec's confused expression out of the corner of his eye. Waving a dismissive hand at Alec's lack of Seventy era tv show knowledge, he got his phone out. Pulling up a map that showed the gas stations, rest stops and restaurants along their route, he prayed that he knew his brother as well as he just claimed that he did.

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The gas station wasn't going to grace any calendars but it was off the beaten path a little ways, offered cheap, though generic gas and had a small store whose 'open' neon sign that was most likely flickering its last. Standing by the Corvette, filling its tank, Dean leaned against the glossy paint of the vehicle, closed his eyes and tried to rejuvenate his waning energy in the light breeze that ruffled his hair.

He was tired, like he had rarely been. It was proof enough of just how far from his normal stamina he was that a few hours driving had him wanting to do nothing more than stretch out on anything flat. Even the ground under foot would do for a bed. Well, a shoot out, a car wreck and a few hours driving had tuckered him out.

Shaking his head and opening his eyes, he topped off the gas and entered the convenience store. He made a beeline through the deserted store toward the bathroom, didn't commit himself to entering until he saw the window and knew if Manticore came knocking, he could climb through it.

A few minutes later, escaping the bathroom without unwanted guests, he walked numbly down the few aisles that the store boasted. He picked up a few cans of Red Bull, a bag of peanut M&Ms, a sub and an apple Danish before making his way to the cash register. Juggled his loot in his left hand, he internally sighed as the man in front of him in the checkout line reamed out the gas station attendant for not stocking his favorite brand of cigarettes.

Seeing the young kid behind the register paling under the man's verbal barrage, Dean interrupted the customer's tirade, "Hey why don't you just back off." When the man slowly turned to him with a glare, he gave him one of his wide, unfriendly smiles. "Dude, you seriously need to go on the patch. I hear they are pretty effective on lab rats trying to stop chain smoking."

It must have been something in Dean's eyes that had the man disengaging from escalating the confrontation. Tossing a few bills on the counter for his yogurt, the man bumped Dean's shoulder as he headed toward the exit. Only when he was past the door's threshold did he bravely mutter under his breath, "Jerk."

'_Sam's the only one who's allowed to call me a jerk_,' sneaked its way into Dean's brain.

The attendant puffed out a relieved breath at the irate customer's departure and turned to his Good Samaritan. "Thanks."

"No big deal," Dean downplayed as he dumped his food on the counter. Sliding something in his pocket, he retrieved his wallet and hoped he had enough money to cover his small provisions. As it was, he got back after his purchases a whopping dollar twenty. It took his financial balance up to five dollars and change. '_Heck of a budget to support being on the lam.'_

"It was to me," the clerk said, breaking Dean out of his financial woes.

"Come again?"

"It was a big deal to me, you getting that jerk off my back," the clerk clarified, meeting Dean's steady gaze. "I once had this one woman flip out. She started throwing things when I told her she didn't have enough money, that she needed two more cents."

Unbidden, Dean remembered another convenience store clerk, how the kid had recounted Sam throwing a liquor bottle at his head, buying girly cigarette's. Course Sam had been Meg's meat-suit at the time. Fear bubbled up in him at the memories. And he told himself it was irrational to worry that such a thing would happen again, not with them sporting the protection tattoos. Well he and Sam had them, Alec didn't. '_Alec has Sam_ _to watch out for him._ _They are both fine_. _Don't be such a girl,_' he railed at himself.

His emotions suddenly tripping him up, Dean simply nodded at the clerk and left the store. And though the Corvette was a beauty, a shaft of disappointment surged in him that it wasn't his baby waiting for him. '_Least no one's ambushed you for the last four hours_,' he consoled himself but couldn't help but wonder when his state of grace would be up.

Sitting in the vintage sports car's interior, he reached into his pocket, fingered what he had easily pick pocketed from the rude customer's leather jacket when the guy had bumped into him.

His whole life he had wanted to be like his Dad, but no matter how hard he had tried, he never was. And he didn't know if that made him a better man or a weaker one, failing in that. But what he did know was that he couldn't cut himself off from Sam or Alec. He just couldn't do what his father had done, regardless that his father's actions had been done in the name of love, of protection, of revenge.

He couldn't leave Sam and Alec behind, searching in the dark for him. He couldn't leave them with no way to contact him if they were hurt, got cornered by Manticore, if they **needed** him. '_Had a friggin' heart attack and were dying,_' he acidly tagged on one more circumstance.

And there it was again, the disappointment, the _hurt_ at his father's actions had left behind in his soul, a bitter keepsake of his father. A confusingly sharp contrast to his father's later actions. It didn't make sense, how his father could walk away, heck, _run away_ from him and Sam, could ignore their phone calls, could not even bother to send flowers to his deathbed and then do the unthinkable, turn around and sacrifice his soul to save his life.

Some days, Dean thought he would have rather had the flowers, that he might have loved his father more if his Dad had simply answered his panicked call from Lawrence. Sad as it was, he would have even treasured a text message that said more than coordinates to a new hunt.

For all the things that he was, for all the weak, terrible, unforgiveable things that he had done in his life, Dean knew that he wasn't his father, could never be his father, probably should have never tried to be his father. Not when the cost was so high, not when the pain, it wouldn't be inflicted on him, would be seared into Sam, into Alec.

Feeling his indecision flee and his anticipation of hearing Sam's voice grow, Dean pulled his hand out of his pocket and turned on the phone that he had liberated from the Marlboro man. No, he wasn't going to put his brothers in harm's way. He wasn't changing his mind on that. But he also wasn't going to be the one to hurt them, to scar them the way that his father had scarred him. He wouldn't let them think, for even a second, that he wouldn't be there for them if they needed him, that he wouldn't answer if they called, that there was anything more important to him than they were.

It felt right, good, dialing Sam's phone number. And he was certain that, with one word, his brother's relieved but none the less angry voice would dissipate the emptiness filling the vette's interior.

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Jerking a little as his phone rang, Sam, though he knew there was little hope that it was Dean, couldn't stop his heart from pounding in vain hope. "Hello," he hesitantly answered.

"So how was the music festival?"

Sam's rejoinder to the familiar voice was a joyous declaration of "Dean?" And he didn't care that he was reacting like a kid who got excited at just the sound of his brother's baritone. Exchanging a happy, relieved look with Alec, he hurriedly fired out question after question. "Are you alright? Where are you? Which rest stop are you closest to?"

Surprised, slightly embarrassed and wholly touched by Sam's fervent welcome, Dean smiled, replied with a teasing lilt to his words, "Whoa, dude, one question at a time."

Sam, settling on the most important question first, demanded, "Are you hurt?"

"Nope, haven't run into the fuglies since I hopped the subway with Lydecker."

"So you're OK?" Sam pressed, needed it spelled out, didn't want any shades of grey from Dean.

Hearing Sam's worry loud and clear, Dean promised, "I'm alright, Sammy."

Closing his eyes in relief, Sam felt as if a weight had lifted from his chest, that he could finally exhale and inhale to his lung's capacity.

"How 'bout you and Alec? You two alright? The goon squad leave you alone once I left?"

"We're fine, Dean."

"How's your head?"

"Still attached," Sam bypassed his brother's concern, went for the bonus round. "We're probably only two hours or so behind you…"

"What? How?" The tension in Dean's voice didn't suggest he was excited at the prospect of a family reunion.

"Lydecker got us Manticore's GPS coordinates on you," Sam slowly supplied, started to doubt his wisdom in telling Dean that they were in hot pursuit of him. His quick glance to Alec told him that the same reservations were going off in Alec's head too. But it had just come out. He had thought Dean would welcome the news, that he and Alec weren't going to let him slip away from them.

Silently, Dean cursed. He should have figured that his brothers would find a way to pick up his trail. "Well, the next exit you come to, you take it."

"You'll meet us there?"  
And there it was, that hopefulness, that earnest anticipation in his little brother's voice. "No, you're gonna stop following me," Dean grounded out, understood a little bit more why his Dad hadn't called when he was keeping his distance from them.

As if reading Dean's thoughts, Sam shot back, anger in his tone, "Gee, who do you sound like?

"Dad had …"

"His _reasons_? A _point_? Dean…" And so what that his brother's name came out beseeching, Sam didn't care, not if it got him what he wanted. "Come on, don't do this. Don't go all Lone Ranger on us."

"See Lone Ranger, that's doesn't even make sense. He had Tonto…."

"Dean," his little brother growled but Dean knew what lay underneath, the 'do it for me' whine that Sammy had perfected by the age of 4.

Dean couldn't battle that tactic, not with anger. He never could. Dropping into a softer timber, he reasoned, "Ok, look, Sammy. They are after me, not you two."

"Yeah and that's why we should be there to protect you."

"Protect me?" Dean snorted. "Is that the role you've cast for yourself?"

Refusing to let his brother bait him into backing off, Sam stubbornly shot back, "You're not the only one who refuses to lose someone they care about, Dean."

"Sam, you're not going to lose me," Dean patiently vowed, said it like he had said a thousand other things.

'_You know we're going to find Dad, right?' _

'_Nothing bad is going to happen to you while I'm around.' _

'_You're going to be Ok. You're stronger than me. You'll get over it.'_

"Really," Sam huffed out, his tone bitter, incredulous. "Because I already lost you, Dean. Over a hundred times. So stop making promises that you can't keep!"

Sensing the despair buried in Sam's anger, Dean suddenly wanted to track down the Trickster and kill him nice and slow, wanted to make the sadistic demi-god pay for sentencing Sam to a ringside seat of his death over and over and over again.

Not allowing his anger to bleed into his voice, Dean soothed, "Calm down, Sam. We're not dealing with some demi-god on an ego kick here."

"No, just an army who has transgenics waiting in the wings," Sam fired back, unappeased by his brother's logic.

"Sam, I have a plan."

Sam nervously rubbed his brow. "You say that like I'm supposed to breathe a sigh of relief."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, little brother," Dean retorted, could hear his brother's sigh loud and clear across the reception.

"Dean, all the things we've survived, it's all Guinness Book Record stuff but we did it **together**. First you, me and Dad, then you and me, and now you, me and Alec. Never Alone."

"Yeah, because one is the loneliest number.." Dean smart mouthed back a line from a song.

Sam wasn't amused, wasn't even distracted by his brother's antics. "Please. _Please_, Dean, just tell us where you are, let us do this together."

"Sorry, Sammy. I can't. Not this time."

"Yes you can," Sam insisted but Dean cut him off.

"You and Alec take care of yourselves. I'll call later," Dean hurriedly cut across his brother's protests. Then, cowardly, he disconnected the call, knew that he had to break the connection, had to hang up before Sam could find a way to wrap him around his finger, could put the little brother whammy on him that always had him saying yes when he meant no, that made it nearly impossible for him to go against Sammy's wishes.

He wasn't surprised when his phone rang two seconds later. He let it go to voicemail. He knew who it was and what he wanted and that he couldn't give it to him. Not this time.

For the first time, Dean truly understood his father's reluctance to allow him and Sam to take part in the hunt for their mother's murderer. Realized that his father's "It scares me, you two are all I've got," wasn't about he and Sam being the last part of Mary that his father had had left. No, it was about his father fearing that he would lose the two people that he loved most in the world.

And now Dean knew that feeling, that debilitating fear only too well.

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TBC

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Well that's where I'm pausing our story. Now I'm off to iron out the kinks in the next chapter.

And thanks so much to Guiltypleasure Exposed, Pandora Jazz, Mtee1958, MasonDixon, SereaphimXII, Branch Super, and Samatha V! I know that I seldom reply to my wonderful reviewers but I really couldn't continue to write this story without your encouragement. So for all the times that I don't reply, know that your words are heard and are truly treasured.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	23. Chapter 23: What Matters Most pt 15

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

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Chapter 23 – What Matters Most – part 15

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When his call back to Dean ended in a stranger's voice speaking into his ear instead of his brother's, Sam wasn't sure which of his raging emotions would prevail, his grief or his anger. Dean was off the grid as quickly as he had blipped onto it.

Struggling to get his mask in place, to pretend that he wasn't as divided in his emotions as Sam, Alec quipped, "So I'm guessing we're not meeting up with Dean at the next IHOP."

"No," Sam sullenly answered but he didn't put his phone away. Instead he clenched it tightly and berated himself for not saying the right things, for not finding a way to exact a promise from Dean to meet up with them, for not making Dean see that, whatever came next, they had to face it together.

Alec didn't need to be engineered with physic abilities to know what Sam was feeling. "It's not your fault," he quietly stated, though it had taken every ounce of his loyalty to Sam to not grab the phone and talk to Dean himself.

"He was on the line and I….he…" Sam stammered, fisting his hand and slamming it down on the middle console.

"He called, Sam. We know he's OK," Alec gently pointed out, had to look for the silver lining if Sam couldn't. "We're way better than we were even five minutes ago."

Sam nodded in agreement but it was solely for Alec's sake. Alec didn't know what ominous domino effects could result from just one phone call, but Sam did. His partnership with Dean had been fractured for the first time after their father had broken down his wall of silence and called them to wave them off his trail. '_That time_ _I bailed on Dean and I almost lost my brother to a friggin' scarecrow_.'

And then there was the crocotta, who feed on lonely souls. The crocotta had lured Dean into a trap by piecing together their father's voice messages and, in the process, had put him and Dean at odds with each other. Again, it came down to a phone call almost getting them killed

It certainly put a real bad spin on the adage of 'reach out and touch someone' for Sam.

Confused by Sam's sullenness after Dean's call, Alec prodded carefully, "If you're happy that Dean called, you're hiding it well."

"I am…" Sam admitted but he failed miserably at being convincing.

Suddenly Alec tensed, as reasons for Sam's possible mood sprang to his fertile mind. "Do you think Dean lied? That he's hurt? That Manticore has him pinned down somewhere?"

Giving Alec's questions some consideration, Sam slowly replied, "No. He wasn't lying about being alright."

"Then what is it? And don't tell me nothing," Alec warned, wishing that he could spend more time assessing his brother's features and less time concentrating on the road ahead.

Sam shifted in his seat before he forced the words out. "Just because he called, it doesn't mean anything has changed. He's not going to let us join up with him. "

"And this surprises you?" Alec smugly volleyed back, smirked at Sam's glare before he sobered. "Well, our plans haven't changed either. Once we catch up to Dean, we don't let him out of our sight. And then we do whatever we have to do, even if that means burning down Boris's little compound and taking out everyone who gets in our way."

"You sound like the star of one of those 80s action films, you know that?" Sam tossed out as if it were an insult but there was a hint of a smile pulling on his lips.

"If I end up saving the day, getting the girl and living happily ever after, I'm fine with that."

Sam jovially cut his brother's delusions off at the pass. "You forget you're cast in a _Winchester_ story."

"Ok, so then I live happily ever after at the side of my two action figure brothers. We spend our days kicking the stuffing out of monsters and Manticore mannequins. And because I'm an overachiever, I'll have some time to spare to romance my girl, rally some transgenics to a better tomorrow and teach _you_ how to cook."

Surprisingly, Sam quickly consented, "You know what, you're on."

But Alec didn't miss or _trust_ the mischievous twinkle in his brother's eyes. Sam's next words confirmed his suspicions.

With rare smugness, Sam raised the ante. "But you have to teach something to Dean, too."

At the prospect of getting Dean, Mr-I'm-the-oldest-and-there's-nothing-you-can-teach-me to learn something from _him_, Alec dourly chastised himself, '_Serves you right for betting with your brothers._' Because, Sam's little condition, it was a doozy. But he couldn't call uncle, not when Sam was practically beaming and breaking his hand patting himself on the back for maneuvering him into a corner.

Sam felt his assured victory faded away when a slow, but confident smile emerged on Alec's features.

"I'll teach him how to play the piano," Alec proudly announced, liking the idea more and more.

Sam's eyebrows arched at Alec's announcement. He waited for a retraction…that wasn't coming. "You're serious?"

Alec shrugged a 'sure, why not?' in reply.

"Never. Happen," Sam bluntly shot down Alec's claim. "Never. Besides, you picked something that's not even probable because, maybe you haven't noticed, but the places we stop at don't usually have a "lobby", let alone a piano lounge."

Haughtily, Alec answered, "Logan's got a piano. Well, it's actually Joshua's," because, in his mind, it would always be Joshua's house, was as close to a family home as Joshua had ever had. Or Alec had, for that matter. '_Until I hopped into the Impala_.'

Suddenly, Alec couldn't fight the sharp melancholy that assailed him as he realized how much he missed Joshua, how much he had been missing Max all along. And with Dean curtailing their relationship down to phone calls, it felt a little too much like watching Manticore go up in smoke. Standing there on the hill and watching the only home he had ever known burn, he had felt lost, unsure of where to go, afraid that he would never belong anywhere ever again.

A voice brought him back from the brink, anchored him to the here and now, to the life he had, to the family he belonged with and wasn't losing.

"What? Now you and Logan are _buddies_?" Sam taunted, because even he had sensed the tension between his brother and the cyber journal. Course, when he met Logan, he and Alec were scared out of their minds that they would lose Dean. '_Some things really don't change.'_

Shooting a look to Sam, Alec quirked, "Sure, we're Facebook friends and everything. Or I know, maybe, for the next repo house we crash in, I'll request Logan find one that's furnished with a piano."

Continuing the inane conversation, Sam shook his head firmly and denied, "Dude, Dean will **not **take piano lessons from you." Because their sense of humor, their ability to put up a wall and pretend life was grand, that everything would work out, that was how he and Dean stayed sane, how Alec had not ended up a heartless killer.

The smile Alec shot Sam was a dare in and of itself.

"Alright then. What are we betting?" Sam challenged back, was confident that whatever the stakes, he would come out the winner.

"Laundry duty for a month," Alec tossed out, knew that, for him, getting out of that chore was priceless.

Sam's smile emerged slowly but brazenly as he held out his hand to Alec, who readily shook it. "You're on."

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Dean's voice was a little tinny as it came from Sam's cell phone speakers. "Before you huddle the suicide intervention group. _Again._ Just listen to me. I have a plan, guys."

Sam snorted, hoped it was audible to Dean as he balanced his phone between he and Alec, "Yeah, and your plans are never recklessly suicidal."

"Ya done?" Dean barked back, his voice filling the interior of the Ford GT. "Or do you want to save your rollover minutes to call your OCD support group 'stead of me?"

Taking a deep breath, trying to not let Dean's taunt derail his determination, Sam evenly announced. "Whatever plan you have, we're part of it, Dean."

Dean's frustration, his desperation for Sam to accept his decision seeped into his brother's name. "Sam…"

"No. It's non-negotiable," Sam stated as if his word was law, though he had little faith that Dean would accept it as such.

His little brother's forcefulness inciting a cocky defiance in him, Dean shot back, "Well, considering I'm already hours ahead of you, I think your demands are a little weak, Sammy," his brother's nickname slipping out with a bitter bite.

And that was it for Alec. He couldn't play spectator one second longer, couldn't concede the lead to Sam anymore. Not when he had as much to lose as Sam did. "Give me that," he snapped, snatching the phone from Sam's hand. "Ditching us, that's really nice. Makes me feel all warm inside," he sarcastically drawled into the phone.

Dean cringed, should have known that, just because he had gone rounds with Sam about what was best for them, that didn't mean that he didn't have to repeat that battle with Alec. Fighting to keep his tone level, determined to not further inflame Alec's burning anger, Dean reasoned, "They can track me…not you."

"Again, more reason than ever for us to stick together and take them on."

Instead of rehashing the same 'I'm doing this to keep you safe' spiel, Dean quietly pointed out, "You're still weak from missing your meds, Alec." Even as the words came out, he hated himself for saying them, for hurting Alec, for not thinking of a better way to get through to his brother than to belittle him. But he kept telling himself that if the means justified the end and if the means kept his brothers safe…

Dean's lack of faith crumbled some of Alec's confidence, made him question his own abilities. Dean didn't think that he could protect him, thought that he wasn't up to the task, that he was _useless_ to him. "I'm fine," he assured with hard conviction even as he felt Sam's worried gaze on him. But he didn't dare look to Sam, knew that his brother was too perceptive, would know that whatever Dean had said to him, it had scored a direct hit.

"No, no, you're not fine," Dean refuted but his tone was softer than before, carried concern instead of accusation. "You're not invincible, kiddo," he lightly stated, needed Alec to recognize that fact, to stop foolishly risking himself. Cowardly he left unsaid that he and Sam couldn't bear to lose him.

"And neither are you," Alec hoarsely countered, his emotions tripping him up.

"Touché," Dean good-naturedly surrendered, willing to give credit where credit was due. "But do you really think I would be willing to off myself to protect Max and the other transgenics and wouldn't risk _more_ to keep you and Sam safe?"

Dean's question took the legs right out of Alec's defenses, left him almost gasping for air. He didn't want to acknowledge the truth, a truth that had been lurking in his head the whole time. He didn't want Dean to think that way, to risk whatever he thought he needed to risk. Not for them, not out of some need to protect them. "No," was all he could choke out, was what was screaming in his head. '_No..no..no..no NO_!_' _Dean couldn't _think _that way, _couldn't do that_! Not for them, not for anyone!

Gutted at Alec's tone, Dean sought distance, was already scrambling to shore up his defenses. "Hey, I gotta go…." He could hear Alec protest, "No, don't hang…" as he cut the connection.

Dropping the phone in the Corvette's passenger seat, Dean ran a hand over his brow, wondered, for the millionth time, if he was doing the right thing for his brothers, for his family. If there was another solution, he just couldn't see it.

He hadn't lied to Alec. Whatever needed to be done to keep his brothers safe, he would do. But he never saw this day coming. The day that he would willingly choose to live **without **them, would do what had always seemed inconceivable to him: walk away from the people that he loved most.

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Whatever Dean had said to Alec, Sam knew it had cut deep. Not even Alec's shields could conceal the heartache his brother was feeling. And Sam didn't know how to make it better, how to make any of this better. Dean being gone, Alec being hurt, himself being so scared that his family would never be whole again.

'_Part of your family is right here, sitting arm's length from you, stupid. Do something to make it better for him. Be the big brother Dean always has been for you,'_ he railed at himself, found that he had to clear his throat before his voice would work.

"I know Dean can make some lousy choices that we don't agree with," Sam began, hoped that it established that he and Alec were on the same side, were feeling the same thing.

"Nicely understated," Alec snapped back, choosing to hide his hurt under irritation.

Pressing on, Sam said, "But he does almost all of it because he's following his heart." He had figured that much out about his stubborn brother since Stanford, since he had viewed his brother through an adult's perception instead of a child's.

"Well his heart should shut up," Alec petulantly shot back. But at Sam's sigh, he knew that his attitude was hurting Sam and there was enough hurt to go around already without his help. "So what do you want me to do when we find him? You want me to say '_I understand why you abandoned us and I forgive you. Let's hold hands?'_" he caustically asked, resentment dripping from his words.

Sam chuckled at the mental picture of Alec doing just that. "Yeah, all but the holding hands part. That would be a deal breaker for Dean."

His anger dissipating at Sam's humor and teasing smile, Alec threw Sam a mischievous smirk and deviously admitted, "I know."

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When his cell phone rang, Dean cautiously opened with, "Yeah?" Honestly, he didn't know who he hoped was on the other line, Sam or Alec, wasn't sure of the reception he would get from either of his brothers right then.

"Hey," Sam meekly began, wasn't sure of the footing that he was on with Dean.

"Hey," Dean returned, equally skittish.

"I know I didn't say it before but…thanks… for calling us, letting us know that you're alright." Sam let his other sentiment go unspoken: '_Thanks for not being like Dad.' _Though he got silence back for a reply, he could just envision Dean shrugging like it was no big deal, like he was even embarrassed by Sam's gratitude.

"Ok, well I gotta…" Dean huskily replied, clearly uncomfortable with Sam's gratefulness.

"Yeah, Ok," Sam quietly returned. And though he knew the two words would be construed as permission for Dean to hang up, when the silence fell on the other end of the phone, it hurt, felt like he had done the stupidest thing imaginable. He had let Dean _go_. And without even a fight.

With his attention divided between road and his brother, Alec couldn't stop himself from asking, "You alright?" because Sam looked down right defeated.

Inhaling, Sam met Alec's eyes. "Ask me that a month from now, when all this is behind us."

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The windows were down, the music was loud and it wasn't doing a bit of good. His body wasn't taking the hints, his eyes were slipping shut of their own accord and his mind was drifting.

When his tires hit the rumble strips along the side of the highway, Dean's eyes snapped open and he yanked the car back between the yellow and white lines, just barely kept himself from becoming another interstate casualty.

Shaking his head, he turned the music higher, took a drink of the Red Bull and rolled his shoulders. He could do this. He had driven hours after being shot, for Pete Sake. He could certainly keep awake now, when he wasn't even hurt. After all, he was just regaining his strength after almost starving to death and having a first hand experience of how awesome it felt to be a specimen in a Petri dish.

And he didn't _need_ company. He had driven coast to coast, alone. But that had been years ago..and he had had no choice back then, with his father hunting separately and Sam in Stanford.

'_And now you do have a choice and here you are, alone again_.'

'_It won't be forever_,' but his comeback sounded weak even to him. Because right then, he couldn't see the end of the road that he was on, couldn't be as optimistic about his plan as he let his brothers think that he was.

Things happened, things went wrong. The good guys, they didn't always win. And happily ever after? That was for other people, for people who hadn't watched their mother burn on a ceiling, who didn't have to yank their brother out of another burning house while a desecrated loved one was pinned overhead. Was for someone who didn't know the exact price their father had paid to save them, someone whose youngest brother hadn't been subjected to sadistic testing his entire childhood.

No, happily ever after, that was the real urban legend.

But what he did have, what he did believe in was his two brothers. And what he felt for them, what they felt for him, it wasn't fragile. It hadn't crumbled at the first sign of trouble and it wouldn't at the millionth sign. The bond between them, it was tempered, yes, but not broken. And it wouldn't break, he knew that, had faith in that. And that faith, it would see him through this, would give him the strength to make it back to his brothers. So that, one day soon, he would be able to sleep, maybe not the sleep of the just but the sleep of the well guarded.

Until then, he just had to stay awake, had to guard his own back for a little while longer. But that didn't mean that he was without resources, that he was alone in all of this, not really. Not when his brothers were only a phone call away.

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With Alec dozing in the passenger seat, Sam maneuvered the sports car faster and faster through the night time traffic. Dean was just out of his reach, close, he knew that in his gut. Almost had himself convinced that, if he went a little faster, he would draw up beside the sports car that Dean had commandeered for his mission impossible. That if he looked a little harder around at the gas stations that they stopped at, he would see his brother coming out of the store, junk food in hand.

The logical part of him knew it was just wishful thinking, was his way of keeping his emotions under wraps, preventing the worst case scenario from playing out in his head. It was how he dealt with the horrible things in his life: Dean or Alec getting hurt, him being helpless to protect his brothers, fate not caring that he couldn't live without his big brother. It was the Winchester way, to focus wholly on their objective. And whether he liked it or not, most of the time that objective ending up being the same thing: getting back what was theirs, by force, by guile, by deals, and even by pleadings and prayers.

When his phone rang, a smile blossomed on his face. Quickly, before Alec did more than snuggle deeper into the car's upholstery, he answered it. "Wish we were using CBs like we did as kids."

"I remember that time we almost talked that woman trucker into meeting us."

Just hearing his brother's voice lightened Sam's mood. He gave a short laugh. "Can you imagine Dad's face, opening the motel door and seeing this woman standing in the doorway, expecting him to be her prince charming?"

Dean's laughter vanquished some of the darkness in Sam's soul with light. "It would have been priceless, Sammy."

"Yeah, right, priceless. And neither one of us would have been sitting for a year."

"Might have been worth it," Dean reminisced, a sad wistfulness in his tone that twisted Sam's gut.

Trying to prevent his own emotions from distorting his voice, Sam lightly ventured, "You doing ok?"

"Just talk to me awhile, Sammy."

And the entreaty, the misery in his brother's voice, it practically made it impossible for Sam to do what Dean asked, made his mouth go as dry as the Sahara.

Dean spoke in Sam's silence. "I'm tired man."

Dean's admission, it tore a hole right through Sam's heart. "Just pull over, we can't be that far behind you, Dean," his own voice burning with unshed tears.

"Can't," Dean rejected sorrowfully. He just couldn't do what Sam asked. But he held onto hope that, even though Sam disagreed with his decision, his brother wouldn't deny him his request.

A heavy silence fell between the brothers for a few beats.

"I hear they are finally going to start filming "The Hobbit" in New Zealand," Sam began, the statement seemingly coming out of the blue.

Dean wearily smiled, the sudden spike of affection he felt for his brother buoying his languishing energy more than merely talking ever could. "I'm telling you, Sam, it's a cursed production."

Sam added his own proof to his brother's claim. "First the studio takes forever to green light the project…"

"Then the studio runs out of funds.."

"So the director quits.."

Dean snorted. "Which really is a good thing because it should have been Jackson the whole time.."

"But then he got that weird health thing and ended up in hospital…"

"Now nature's throwing earthquakes into the mix…" Dean shook his head though there was no one around to see the gesture.

"So there's no Legolas? No Aragon?" Sam asked, wasn't as familiar with the books or the movies as Dean was.

Yawning around his words, Dean supplied, "I'm not sure, Legalos might be."

Hearing the break in his brother's words, recognizing it for what it was, Sam unconsciously tightened his grip on the steering wheel, felt himself shifting more upright as his tension, his worry returned. "Any actors that you know making the cast?"

"Few. Nobody that's gracing People Magazine..or whatever goes for the popular rag sheet in New Zealand or Europe. But come on," Dean broke into a yawn. "It either takes guts or desperation to agree to wear," he mumbled around a yawn that cracked his jaw wide "the long hair AND the elf ears." Hit with another yawn, he didn't bother trying to speak through it, waited until it passed to resume his monologue. "I mean we would never see DeNiro sporting elven locks."

"Dean, you're practically asleep at the wheel?" Sam charged, even as he knew that he might be sacrificing the fragile peace between them by voicing his concerns. But what good was peace when his capitulating to Dean's wishes could end in disaster.

Alec jerked awake, instinctively reacted to the urgency in Sam's voice. Instantly, he sought out Sam, muscles and mind ready to spring into action. It took only one look at Sam, sitting behind the wheel holding the phone, to know that the threat, it wasn't physical. It was something far more debilitating.

"Am not," Dean denied Sam's accusation but the slur of his words undermined his declaration.

Sensing Alec's attentiveness, Sam shot his youngest brother a worried look while he protested his older brother's claim. "Yeah, yeah you are. Stop being a stubborn jerk. Pull over and tell us where you are."

"Screw saving energy. I'm not that into car pooling. Come on, weigh in on the elvish debate. Who would make a good leader of the pack elf for the Hobbit movie? Clint Eastwood?" Dean offered with a small laugh.

In spite of himself, Sam laughed at the mental picture of Clint Eastwood going elvish. "You should be a casting agent."

"I know. I would be so good at it."

When a new, abrupt sound echoed through the phone, it took Sam a few seconds to indentify it: The rumble strips along the highway engineered to wake up dozing drivers before they killed themselves on the highways. "Dean!"

Abruptly the sound stopped and his brother's scolding voice took its place. "Use your inside voice, Sam."

"Are you trying to kill yourself, Dean? Again?"

Instead of rising to the dig, Dean wise-cracked, "And deny the world my awesome presence? I'm not that selfish, Sam."

"Well then how about not dozing at the wheel?" Sam acidly returned, his helplessness and his fear ratcheting up his blood pressure.

"I'm fine, Sam," Dean placated, knew that Sam was about to reach his critical mass limit of emotions.

"Just like Dad, right. Fine on your own. Course if you were like Dad, we wouldn't be talking right now."

Dean knew that there was an insult buried in his brother's words, always was when Sam compared him to their father. "Maybe running silent wasn't Dad's worst idea," he shot back.

When Sam spoke again, his voice didn't reveal anger but instead screamed of need. "Come on, Dean. You're exhausted. You can't keep this up."

Dean wanted to crumble to Sam's plead, wanted to do whatever he could to make things better for his brothers. And suddenly he hated himself for that, for bending to everyone's needs, for putting his own needs on a shelf, for getting little to no respect for making the hard sacrifices. "Well, if I prove you right and nod off, I'll guess you'll hear about it in the traffic report."

"Dean, don't hang up. Don't!" but by then, Sam was shouting to empty airwaves. And his immediate re-dailing, it only ended with a voice recording that wasn't his brother's.

Slapping his hand on the steering wheel, Sam cursed, hated that he had screwed up again, that he had pushed his brother away when all he wanted to do was find the stupid jerk and not let him out of his sight for the foreseeable future.

Sam almost startled when a hand lightly slapped his shoulder, drawing his attention to Alec.

"Take your own advice and pull over. I'll take my turn driving again," Alec insisted gently.

"You only slept about two hours," Sam protested, though Alec did look, for all the world, like he was wide awake and even refreshed.

Alec gave him his brazen smile and boasted, "What can I say, it's good to be special."

To which Sam spat back, "Bragger."

SNDASNDASNDASNDASNDA

Jolting awake, Sam sat up in the passenger seat of the car, his heart pounding. For a moment, he didn't know why. Then he heard it, recognized the sound. A wailing siren.

With hands that were anything but rock steady, Sam quickly reached for his phone. Dialing the number of Dean's confiscated phone and holding the phone to his ear, he looked across the car's dark interior, saw that Alec's features were eerily illuminated by the dashboard but his brother's eyes, they radiated the same fear that was coursing through him.

As the phone rang and rang, Sam muttered, "Pick up. Pick up!" but a recorded female voice met his plea.

"The person you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please try.."

Ending the connection, Sam sat forward in his seat, eyes scanning the slowing line of traffic ahead of them.

"Don't jump to conclusions," Alec advised, needed Sam to keep it together. He was having a hard enough time shutting down the little voice in his own head taunting him, telling him that his older brother was involved in the wreck just down the road.

If Sam lost it, Alec feared that his own composure would crumble too.

But Sam wasn't going to be the sensible one, not in this.

"You mean the conclusion that he was about falling asleep at the wheel **hours ago**. That he has an army after him, trying to capture him…or kill him. That conclusion?" Sam sharply retorted, not taking his eyes from the ambulance's flashing lights as it zig-zagged it's way through the highway traffic. And it was both better and worse that he could see where the ambulance stopped, could pinpoint exactly where the accident was. It was miles ahead but within sight. Both too far and too close at the same time.

Then the traffic all around them came to a stand still.

Putting the car in park, Alec itched to get out of the car, to do something, to confirm that the accident didn't involve Dean. '_Or to find out that it does.' _And that bleak thought froze him in position. Not knowing was better than knowing.

They sat in silence, he and Sam, neither finding the strength to speak further of their fears, or to rally hope. And it felt like hours that they were there, boxed in by their fellow travelers.

When Sam first heard it, he thought it was just the sound of his own heart pounding, until it got louder, until he could identify it. A helicopter. A helicopter was flying by overhead. And he told himself it could be a news copter…but he knew, he _knew_ that it wasn't.

A medical helicopter had been called onto the scene.

'_Just like they called a helicopter for Dean after the tractor trailer hit us._' And instantly, the memories returned sharply, made Sam feel sick to his stomach. He remembered _everything_, waking in the car, yelling for his dad, screaming for Dean, then Dean being loaded into that helicopter, him begged the paramedic to tell him if his dad and brother were even alive.

Having been part of numerous rescue missions, Alec knew that if an ambulance was already on a scene and a helicopter was called…the injuries were critical, that death was imminent unless superior medical attention was given within minutes. '_And it could be here for Dean. They might take Dean away from us and Dean will never know how close we were. Dean could die …alone….'_

And hard on that devastating thought, Alec's more optimistic vein rushed to put in its two cents_. 'Or Dean could be stopped in this traffic, just like us. He could be within our reach, within __my__ reach.'_

Without offering a word of explanation to Sam, Alec leapt out of the car and began running up the highway. Dodging through the line of stopped cars, he used every ounce of energy, every molecule of speed that he had to go faster, to eat up the distance between himself and the accident, between himself and his brother_._

Snapping his head to the right, Sam barely caught sight of Alec as his brother bailed out of the car, left the driver's door hanging open and blurred up the road. Stumbling out of the passenger door, Sam leaned against the doorframe and watched his brother's progress up the middle of the highway. '_Please don't let it be Dean_,' he prayed, hoped that, what Alec found was their brother, alive and well.

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TBC

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Well, I couldn't help putting in a cliffie here.

Thanks so much for reading! And as always, love goes out to my loyal reviewers!

Have a great day.

Cheryl W.


	24. Chapter 24: What Matters Most pt 16

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

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Chapter 24 – What Matters Most – part 16

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He wasn't going to make it.

He was going to get there right after the helicopter took off, wasn't going to reach the front of the long string of cars before they began moving again, was going to let Dean slip right through his fingers.

Pushing his tiring body to an even faster pace, Alec whished by the cars parked on the highway, his feet pounding on the asphalt, his breath coming out hard and painful and his thoughts jumbled and dark. Then he could see it, the sight of the accident: police, firemen, paramedics and their vehicles in a loose circle around the destruction, and then the car, a sports car by design, a twisted metal grave by a snap of fate's fingers.

But what he saw on the ground caused the world around him to fall mute, made every single other thing fade to inconsequential. It was a tarp and it was covering something under its glaring orange wrappings.

He knew then why the helicopter wasn't leaving the scene of the accident with any urgency. It was too late.

'_I'm too late_.'

Suddenly his legs faltered under him, caused him to stumble against the nearest car. Bowing his head, he braced himself against the car's hood. '_It's not him. __**It's not him**_!' But his little brother weakness warred with the soldier that he still was at heart. '_You owe it to Dean to see this through_.'

And he wasn't sure how he found the strength to step forward, to draw closer when all he wanted to do was run away, to do as Max had once done and abandon everything in the hope that what was beyond his knowledge would be better, would hurt less. He felt like a puppet, his body pulled one way while his mind sought only to flee.

They actually tried to stop him, thought they could keep him from his brother, from knowing the truth, a truth that would either kill him or save him. His actions were almost involuntary as his eyes remained transfixed on the tarp, on the body he knew to be under it. He swept the legs out from under the two firemen who foolishly stood in his way, sent them crumbling to the ground in a heap. Stepping over their sprawled forms, he was faced with a wall of three policemen, their eyes shining with confidence that they could stop him, blindly unaware that they didn't stand a chance.

"Whoa, hey, what's going on?" a calm male voice interrupted. The speaker, an older man with grey flecked dark hair and wearing a fire uniform, entered the standoff. Putting his arm out, he held back the three state police even as he stepped into Alec's path himself. His eyes meeting the young man's panicked gaze, he gently asked, "Son, are you Ok?"

The endearment, the question brought Alec's eyes from the tarp to the stranger. Strengthened by the compassion in the stranger's gaze, he croaked out but one word. "Brother."

The man's eyes darkened with sorrow, regret. When the man's hand reached out, lightly gripped his bicep, Alec didn't flinch, instead he leaned into the connection. "You think it may be your brother?" the man asked, his voice infinitely gentle, coiled with sympathy.

Alec couldn't find his voice, could only give a minuscule nod in reply. He didn't even fight the man's manipulation as he guided him forward by a pull on his arm, steered him by the hardened glares of the three police officers, past the other firemen and the gathered paramedics. But Alec heard the conversations as they made their progress through the gathered emergency personnel, wanted to drown their words out but couldn't.

"He didn't have a chance as fast as he was going…"

"When are people going to realize that real life isn't like Nascar, that they can't roll their car four times and walk away from the wreck."

"No wedding band. Wonder if he had a family…"

When the kind fireman drew him to a stop, when he was mere inches away from the covered body, Alec wasn't sure if was going to be sick or drop to his knees and sob. Both were likely.

"You ready?" The fireman asked, his hand giving Alec's arm an encouraging squeeze.

'_No! Not for this. I will never be ready for this_!' Alec wanted to scream, wanted to run away, wanted to be anywhere but there, even back at Manticore. But he nodded his head, would not abandon Dean, not even in death.

The older fireman nodded to the paramedic who was crouching beside the covered body. But as the tarp was pulled back, the seasoned firemen didn't look at the corpse, instead he kept his look trained on the kid shaking at his side, read the truth in the younger man's features as the body was revealed.

Instinctively, he grabbed the kid's other arm but even with the added leverage, he barely was able to keep the kid on his feet. "Whoa hey, let's take a seat." Manhandling the young man back a few steps, he pushed him down to claim a seat on the back of the ambulance. Crouching down to be eyelevel with the boy, he put his hand on the kid's knee. "Just take some deep breathes."

"It's not…" the kid stammered but the fireman filled in the blanks for the young man.

"Your brother. I know. Still, thinking it was, seeing a dead body, it's enough to knock anybody for a loop." He watched as the kid closed his eyes, felt the terrible tension seep out of the younger man's frame, detected that his trembling was dwindling away. Snagging a water bottle from the ambulance, he pressed it into the traumatized kid's hand. "So, why did you think it was your brother?"

Opening his eyes, Alec drank some of the water, met the man's soft inquiry with a shrug. But he knew he owed the man more than that, for his compassion, for being there with him when he had thought the worst had happened. Letting his eyes rest on the fireman, he explained, "We were supposed to…meet up. But we got…separated," the last word tripping him up, coming out cracked and broken, like he felt.

The fireman gave a small smile. "Yeah, happens on a highway like this. When my father was lead car, he lost my grandparents on so many trips. They would end up calling from the _next state over_."

Alec smiled faintly at the man's humor, at his kindness. He didn't resent the hand the man laid on his shoulder, the squeeze he gave to his muscles. It steadied him, made him feel real, made his relief feel true.

"Well, I have to wrap all this up. And since we got traffic moving again, you better go back to your car before someone decides to push it off the road," the fireman suggested as he stood up. Reaching a hand out to the younger man, he helped the kid to his feet.

"Traffic's moving?" Alec numbly repeated Eyes going to the other lanes of the highway, he saw for himself that cars, slowly but constantly, were driving by the wreck in the other two lanes. '_And if Dean was in one of those cars…I just lost him again.'_

_SNDASNDASNDASNDASNDASNDA_

Though a few cars separated him from the accident, Dean saw it all unfold in living color. One minute the foreign sports car was in its lane, running in the lead and the next…it was flipping on its side, rotation after rotation after rotation, leaving a trail of glass, bumper and metal in its wake.

Even as he slammed on his brakes, barely prevented himself from nailing the car in front of him, braced himself for someone to rear-end him, he couldn't keep his eyes off the out-of-control car's progress. When the car came to a rest on the far left lane on its side, he knew that the survival of the car's occupants wasn't in the top percentile. Maybe didn't even have a percentile.

Getting out of his car, he ran for the ruined vehicle, did it without thought, did it because helping others was ingrained in him. But he wasn't the first one on the scene. Five others were already there, crawling into the wreckage, talking to the victim…and getting no response back. But someone reported that the driver, the only occupant of the vehicle, had a pulse, a weak one.

Someone else was on the phone, calling 911.

Knowing that he wasn't needed, that his particular set of skills could not save the driver, Dean turned his back on the carnage, made his way to his borrowed car and sank heavily into the Vette's seat. So he was left to just sit there, be merely another useless spectator as the tragedy played out it's final act. When he heard the siren, watched the ambulance arrive, he couldn't help but think of a quote that he had heard somewhere: There but by the grace of God go I.

He had lost count of the times that saying applied to him, to his survival. He didn't really want to know, to tally up those who had died when he had been spared, who had died so he could _live_. '_That won't happen to Sam and Alec. I won't __**let it**_,' he vowed before a realization struck him, had him cursing. '_Sam and Alec! Crap, they are behind me! What I said to Sam before I hung up…they might think_….'

Frantically, he searched for his cellphone, knew it had been on the passenger seat before he slammed on his brakes. Then he saw it on the passenger seat's floorboards. Nearly crawling over the console, he retrieved it from the floor. Praying it still worked, he flipped it open, was so pathetically grateful that it wasn't broken that he hung his head in relief for a moment and then…he made a phone call.

Before the person he was calling could do more than inhale, he was reassuring, "I'm alright. It wasn't me."

His world righted at just the sound of Dean's voice, Sam found that he couldn't give a reply, was too busy swallowing his heart in his throat. '_I had thought…when I heard the sirens…Dean,' _brokenly ran through his head, knew that if he opened his mouth, what would come out wouldn't be words.

"Sam, you there?"

Sam finally found his voice, did it because he knew Dean needed to hear his voice almost as much as the opposite was true. "Sylvester Stallone."

Sam let the silence fall between them, let his brother be confused a moment before he continued. "That's who I think should play an elf lord in the new Hobbit movie," answering his brother's question from hours ago, before things got …crazy between them.

Laughter bubbled out of Dean, releasing his tension, mitigating his fear, stifling his pain. And one thought prevailed: '_Crap, Sammy, what would I do without you_.'

"But I don't know if he can pull off the blonde locks," Sam continued on his tangent, finding Dean's laughter a life line to sanity, well the Winchester brand of sanity. "Though the elvish language delivered in his guttural tone, that should be entertaining, screw with all those fans who go around speaking it."

"Are you telling me that some people speak …elfenese?" Dean suspiciously asked, not sure if Sam was pulling his leg on that one.

"Elfenese, Dean?" Sam sputtered in returning laughter.

"Shut up," Dean grumbled back, but the mirth in his tone carried through the phone lines.

When Sam chuckles petered out way too quickly, Dean automatically knew that his brother was wearing his worried scowl, that the humor portion of their conversation was over. "I'm not hurt. I wasn't caught in the accident. I'm fine, Sam."

"I thought…when I heard the sirens..and you were so tired before…" Sam hoarsely got out the words that just couldn't stay locked inside him.

"It was a guy in front of me. It was ….bad, I don't…" Dean broke off, didn't want this conversation to be about death, even of a stranger.

"You saw it happen?"

"Had to slam on my breaks to not be a part of the pileup."

"Is the guy in the car…"

Dean sighed. Leave it up to Sam to insist on not white washing anything, of not letting something dark remain ignored. "Doesn't look good," he answered, his exhaustion of body and spirit reflected in his voice.

Sam stilled at the implications. Someone who had been only a few car lengths away from Dean might die. It brought home the harsh truth: it could have been Dean, he could have lost his brother by something as commonplace as a traffic accident. "This is killing me, Dean. It's killing Alec. Can't you see that? This is Dad all over again."

"Ah, except it's not. We're talking, Sam. You and me and Alec. You're not left wondering…"

"If the accident ahead of us involved you?" Sam bitterly challenged, knew that he had Dean on that point.

"It didn't," Dean returned, but his declaration didn't express as much insolent conviction as he wanted it to. Not when Sam was right.

"It could have!"

"Yes. It could," Dean quietly agreed, knew that Sam needed that from him, deserved it even. Inhaling, he fell silent, drummed his hand on the steering wheel. "Sammy, I …"

"I know," Sam softly broke in, knew that Dean couldn't promise never to die, to always be there for him, with him. That it was unfair of him to ask for the impossible from his brother. "I know, Dean."

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The last persistent coil of tension that clung to Sam scampered away as he neared ground zero of the crash, saw Alec there, leaning against a police car parked on the highway. Even as he watched Alec, he noted that his brother was visually searching each and every car that passed him, clearly hoping to spot Dean behind the wheel.

When Alec's eyes fell on him, his brother's reaction to his appearance was a convoluted mix of disappointment and relief. Pulling the Ford over to the side of the highway, Sam knew part of what was going through Alec's head. It was the same thing he was thinking. That somehow Dean had made it past Alec.

Once Alec claimed the Ford's passenger seat, Sam wordlessly handed his cell phone to his brother. When Alec's eyes shot to his with hope glistening in them, Sam answered his brother's unvoiced inquiry with a nod of his head and a gentle smile.

Taking the phone, Alec didn't wait to hear Dean's voice. "You don't _ever_ not answer your phone. You got that. Not ever."

Though unbendable steel and fierce anger vibrated through Alec's voice, Dean could hear what was underneath it all: terror and grief and need. "Ok," he quietly agreed, could promise Alec that much.

"Good, that's good," was Alec's response but his relief and gratitude shone through the glib words.

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"Marc Dacascos would have _so_ beat Brandon Lee to the curb," Dean countered Sam's claim as he pulled into the gas station and put the Corvette into park.

"Brandon was at the top of his game in _The Crow_," Sam insisted.

"One word, dude: _Drive_. The scene in that movie where he's blocking the cattle prod with his shoes, it was amazing!"

"Dean, in _Brotherhood of the Wolf_ he got wasted in the middle of the movie, had to be avenged by that French dude."

"He got distracted by that stupid woman!" Dean's voice heatedly defended.

"And that never happened to you," a smirk easily detectable in Sam's voice.

"Shut up," Dean petulantly returned but he was smirking too. "Hey, I'll call you back after while."

"Stopping for gas and a pit stop, huh?" Sam fished, hoping to trick Dean into giving a hint to his present location. "How are the gas prices at that station? Maybe we should go there? What exit did you grab?"

"Nice try, Sammy. Bye," Dean liltingly said, disconnecting the call and shaking his head with affection. He had to give it to his kid brother, Sam never gave up.

Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved his wallet and his loose change. It didn't take long to count. Five bucks wasn't going to get him much gas in this economy. Hoping to find even a few quarters, he leaned over and rummaged through the glove compartment. Coming up with only the insurance card and owner's card, he slammed the compartment, went looking into the middle console… and smiled.

"Jackpot," he gloated, as he retrieved the loose change and crumpled dollars, one of which turned out to be a twenty dollar bill. It was foreign to him, someone who didn't miss twenty dollars, who didn't have to scrap together every cent they owned just to be able to eat.

'_Not the life you chose, Dean_,' he reminded himself as he got out of the car. Taking notice of the "Pay Before Pumping" sign, he headed toward the convenience store entrance.

He never made it inside.

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Dejectedly, Sam disconnected the call, cut off the recording, "The person you are trying to reach…."

"Still not answering?" Alec posed from his position behind the wheel.

Sam shook his head, too worried for words. Dean had promised to answer if they called and if he wasn't answering…

"Phone battery could have died on him," Alec offered up as an excuse, knew by Sam's expression that his brother wasn't buying it anymore than he was. "You said he was stopping for gas, we can hit the next few exits, see if anyone saw him."

"We don't even know if he's on this highway anymore. He could have headed west when the highway divided. We could be going the wrong way now."

"We had fifty-fifty odds," Alec struggled to be optimism, though he didn't know who for, himself…or Sam.

But Sam leveled him with a glare. "Our odds aren't that good."

"So what do you want to do? Turn around?" Alec tiredly asked, wished that Lydecker's sources hadn't dried up, that they had an update on Dean's GPS.

Sam agitatedly bit his lip. Turning around felt like defeat. "No, you had a good idea. Let's stop at some gas stations, ask around, see if anyone has seen Dean."

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Deane He He HeDeanDean almost reacted too late, almost walked right into them. The Manticore soldiers came barreling toward him, two men coming from either side of the convenience store's block building, even as he pulled his gun from his waist band. He had his shot lined up, his finger was squeezing the trigger, when a kid ran across his line of fire.

Panicking, Dean jerked his gun up, felt his heart pounding hard at the near catastrophe. He and the soldiers froze, watched the kid bolt into the convenience store for his snack run, totally oblivious to how close he had come to getting shot.

With a growl of frustration, Dean slid the gun back into his waistband. No way was he going to chance playing Shootout at the OK Corrall when innocents could be caught in the crossfire.

The brawny, taller of the Manticore soldiers coming at him from the right smiled smugly at his humanitarian constraints as if he knew that the odds had just swung more into their favor. Then Dean's attention shifted to one of the soldiers coming at him from the left, his eyes tracking the electronic wand that the soldier held.

"Ah, crap," Dean grumbled as the wand snapped to life. All of a sudden, the scene in the movie _Drive_ with the shoes and the cattle prods, it didn't seem so awesome. Rolling his eyes at the soldier's cocky expression, he began to back up as the foursome advanced. But his blind retreat was abruptly halted when he backed into a gas pump and nearly knocked over the plastic container on the ground that held a windshield rake and windshield washer fluid.

Backed against a virtual wall, Dean tried working his charm on his opponents even as they closed in on him. "I think this is the place where I tell you what a mistake you're making, that Boris is a few beakers short of a full chemical compound, that you don't want your kids growing up in the kind of world Manticore will create."

The brawny soldier spoke for them all, his voice low and his smile cold. "If there has to be a new regime, best to be in their ranks then in their experiment tanks."

Giving one of his insincere smiles, Dean taunted, "Cute. You learn that chant when you underwent shock treatment or at the company picnic."

Having endured enough small talk, the brawny soldier leapt forward, confident that the rest of his team was in synch with him. But Dean Winchester reacted quicker, was already scooping the plastic container off the ground, sloshing its content into his face. When the windshield cleaner hit his eyes, the agony was instantaneous, had him screaming, clawing his eyes and dropping to his knees. Vaguely, he realized his voice wasn't the only one shouting out in pain.

While the two assailants on Dean's right dropped to the ground howling in agony, the pair of soldiers on his left were almost on him before he shifted his attention. Dean derailed the headlong pace of the soldier closest to him with a solid kick to his gut and just managed to grab the other soldier's wrist in time. As it was, the electronic ward's progress halted inches from his face. As he and the soldier struggled to see who would direct the wand, he could feel the heat of the snapping electricity coming off the weapon. It reminded him of the Benders, of a hot poker hovering by his eye.

Viciously, he kneed the soldier in the gut, slammed his elbow across the man's temple and then followed it all up with a roundhouse punch to the face. Releasing the unconscious man, he was swinging around to take on the soldier that he had kicked when a blow sailed into his kidney from behind, almost had him dropping to his knees.

The brawny soldier, his eyes teary and red, merrily circled his prey, took advantage of his target's momentary weakness and unleashed a brutal right cross.

Dean thought for sure that the blow loosened some of his teeth. He had no time to find out before he was grabbed from behind. With his arms pinned to his sides, he was yanked back against one of the soldiers, was left vulnerable to the brawny soldier's punches, one to his gut and three to the face. Fighting to keep his wobbly feet under him, Dean watched as the squad leader, with deliberate slowness, bent over, retrieved the electric wand from the unconscious soldier's grip.

Held tightly in one of the soldier's grip, Dean could only use his smart mouth to defend himself as he watched the light of electricity arch at the end of the wand. "Ok. Ok. Hold off a second. Can we just talk about being civilized about this? You know, you can knock my head against a cement wall or something? Because me and electricity, it's a bad mix," he quipped, gave one of his winning smiles, but his eyes worriedly tracked the approach of the wand.

The brawny leader and his well loved electric wand were a pace away when Dean kicked out with both feet, managed to knock the wand out of the soldier's grip to land a few feet away. With surprise still on his side, Dean got in another kick, this time to the man's face, sending the tall man crashing backwards. With the greater threat sidelined, Dean snapped his head back, broke the nose of the soldier holding him. Seized his opening, he reached behind him, grabbed the soldier by the neck and flipped him over his back. Accidentally but auspiciously, the man tumbled right on top of his squad leader.

Before his enemies could untangle themselves and gain their feet, Dean landed a merciless kick to the leader's temple and then plowed a downward jab into the other soldier's jaw, sending them both into nighty-night. Immediately he swung around and checked on the other threats. But one of the soldiers was still merrily dead to the world and the other, final soldier was still on the pavement, moaning and rubbing his eyes, wishing he was unconscious.

Losing his balance slightly, Dean stumbled back a step, shook his ringing head and wiped the blood off his lips with the back of his hand. Suddenly sensing he was being watched, his head snapped to the left. And there at the convenience store window stood four customers and the store clerk. Giving a hearty wave to the enthralled spectators, he reassured loudly, "Don't worry, this," he pointed to the soldiers on the pavement, "It's just a training exercise to keep me sharp."

Starting to beat a hasty retreat, wanting to be long gone before the Manticore team regrouped, he had only taken a few steps before he saw his cell phone on the ground. Well the _components_ of his cell phone. "Crap," he muttered as he fingered the broken pieces, felt something akin to grief that the connection to his brothers had been unexpectedly severed.

Determined to not see it as a sign, as a clear message that he should break ties with his brothers again, that he should not be calling them, Dean went to the closest soldier and confiscated his cell phone. He almost stood up, almost cut his loses right then but another thought hit him. Going to the unconscious leader, he patted him down. It didn't take him long to find what he wanted: the tracking device that told Manticore where he was every minute of the day.

Proud of his loot, Dean pushed off the ground and ran for the 'Vette. Bringing the Chevy's engine rumbling to life, he peeled rubber out of the gas station.

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Wearily leaning against the Ford and pumping the gas, Sam could see Alec meandering through the convenience store, arms full of snacks. He wasn't hungry, doubted if Alec was either. The only physical sensation he felt was fatigue.

'_If I'm this tired and I've taken naps while Alec drove, I can't imagine how exhausted Dean is.' _And even thoughDean's endurance was a thing of legend, and that wasn't even the biased little brother in him talking, Sam knew Dean had his limits. Especially when his brother was still recovering from all the crap Manticore had done to him, that he had done to himself. If only they had had a few more days of peace and quiet at the house. '_But the hits just keep coming'_ he bitterly thought, the voice in his head sounding a lot like his brother's.

'_A little mercy wouldn't hurt right now, God. Cause I'm…I'm about at my limit for handling the crap coming my way…_' Sam forlornly admitted. Vaguely, he wondered how Dean would feel if he knew that he was at the epicenter of a hundred of his prayers. Prayers he made during their childhood, when he was off at Stanford, ever since he had joined Dean again in their family business. And Alec had gradually but surely been slipped into them too. At first it was with guarded fondness. '_Alec, he's not bad for a clone and Dean would feel guilty if something happened to him._' But that had quickly morphed into, '_God, please don't give us Alec only to take him away from us_.'

Rubbing a hand across his burning eyes, Sam exhaled, tried to dispel the worry that, this time, God wasn't taking his calls, had finally deemed them, _him_ a lost cause. So when he opened his eyes, he thought what he saw was merely wishful thinking: Dean coming from the back of the convenience store, purposefully heading for a Corvette.

Joy and relief washed over Sam and unconsciously he compared that moment to another, when Dean had shown up in the ghost town where Yellow Eyes had him playing a twisted version of "Survivor" with the other special physic kids. He had been so happy to see Dean, to know that his brother wasn't dead like he had feared. And he had called out for his brother then like he was now, with almost childlike enthusiasm and joy, "Dean!"

When his brother's head snapped his direction, Sam could see the surprised recognition on his brother's features even from the distance that separated them.

Quickly releasing the gas pump handle, Sam jumped over the gas line and, smiling widely, made a beeline for his brother. But what came next, Sam didn't have a point of reference for.

Dean ran. Not towards him but _away_ from him.

Stunned, he watched as Dean headed for the large truck refueling area at a full out run. His eyes shooting ahead, Sam knew why. The area was a congested flurry of motion and offered a hundred places to hide. Twenty tractor trailers were already in various stages of gasing up, pulling in, pulling out and then there was the slew of trucks parked for the night in the massive parking lot.

It was the perfect place for his brother to escape and evade.

"Not me you jerk," Sam growled as he took up pursuit of his wayward brother. It didn't even register with him that he dodged out in front of a car pulling into the station, didn't care that he nearly knocked over an old man carrying a bad of goodies from the convenience store. Dean was there!

Dean was a fast runner, if anyone knew that it was Sam. As kids, he had learned that time and time again when their father had pitted them against each other in training exercises. And it had been proven on hundreds of hunts. Hunts when something was breathing down their backs, eager to shred them apart, would too if they were a millimeter slower than what chased them.

Anyone would have had to agree that, Sam and Dean, they were pretty evenly matched in speed.

But today, Sam couldn't afford to simply be as good as Dean. He had to be better. He had to close up the lead Dean had on him, had to reach his brother before Dean could hide in the maze of tractor trailer trucks. Because Sam knew exactly one thing. There was no _way _he wasgoing to letDean slip through his fingers.

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Dean had been prepared for another ambush, to fend off another wave of attacks from more of Manticore's minions like he had at the last gas station. He never expected to hear his name shouted across the gas station's parking lot, to see _Sam_. Sam who was wearing that …that _look_. The look he had worn in that ghost town, like he was so friggin' happy to see him.

But Dean grimly remembered how that all had ended: Sam with a knife in his back, him clutching onto his brother as he bled out, screaming his brother's name when he felt the life he treasured most in the world fade away. Sam's joy at his out-of-the-blue appearance, it had left Sam open for Jake's attack, had cost Sam his _life._

Raw panic ripped through Dean. A repeat could happen any second now. Manticore soldiers could find him again, would see Sam, would kill Sam. And he would be a helpless spectator all over again_. 'No! I won't let that happen again. Not to Sam or Alec.'_ And that resolve, that soul decimating dread, it gave him the fortitude to run, to run away when everything in him begged to go to Sam, to see Alec.

But Sam was fast.

Over the sound of his own pounding steps and thudding heart, Dean could hear his brother's footfalls behind him, closing up the distance between them. '_Dang kid and his long legs._' Pushing himself further, he let adrenaline and need and devotion feed his strength. If he reached the truck parking lot, if he rolled under the first truck he came to, '_I'll be home free_.'

But the careless phrase, it conjured up all the wrong emotions, sent a pang of despair through him. Because his _home_ was behind him, was running after him like a runaway freight train, was gaining ground on him.

What lay ahead? It sure wasn't where he wanted to be. '_But it is where I need to be.' _And he almost had himself believing it.

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When Dean seemed to pour on more speed, Sam growled low in his throat and used his long legs to greater advantage. It wasn't ending this way. He wasn't going to let Dean get away, wasn't going to go home broke when what he wanted was right there, almost within arm's length.

No matter what, Dean wasn't leaving him again.

Gaining energy out of sheer tenacity, Sam bound forward and tackled Dean from behind. They became a tangle of plaid shirts, long legs and flailing arms as they impacted with the unyielding asphalt.

Dean clunked his chin on the ground and Sam got a sharp elbow to the eye but neither of them allowed the blows to stun them into inaction. The stakes were just too high.

Somehow Dean managed to squirm out of Sam's hold and get to his feet. But a big, familiar hand wrapped around his ankle, cut his escape off at the pass.

As Dean tumbled to the ground, Sam relinquished his grip on Dean's ankle and scrambled forward to land on Dean's back, effectively pinning his brother to the pavement. Or so he thought. But the next second, he was on his back and Dean was trying to get up. He didn't let him. Tenaciously grabbing onto his brother' shirt, he yanked Dean down, didn't care that Dean fell heavily on top of him. And then everything returned to familiar patterns: them taking turns rolling on top of each other, wrestling for the upper hand, no hits being delivered but each determined to pin the other to the ground, to score a rousing victory of domination.

Dean didn't know how it happened, how he let it happen.

Breathing hard, but smiling equally hard, Sam kept his knee pressed into his brother's gut and tightened his grip on his brother's wrists. Effectively using Dean's own limbs against him, Sam had Dean's arms pinned crisscross on his chest. Just like his big brother had taught him to.

"Dude, get off me!" Dean demanded but his words came out a winded hiss.

Having no air for speech, Sam mutely shook his head. But he wasn't worried. Most of the time, he and Dean didn't need words between them.

Dean didn't need Sam to say it. He could read the steel in his brother's eyes. He wasn't going anywhere. But there was more than willpower gleaming down at him from his brother. There was relief and frustration and deep welling affection. And Dean knew that his own eyes would soon betray him, would soon match the emotions in Sam's.

Letting the fight seep out of him, Dean settled back onto the pavement, let his head sink down to rest on the cement. For the first time in days, he met his brother's gaze. And he couldn't help it, he smiled because, crap, but it was good to see Sammy.

"Running from me? Seriously Dean," Sam incredulously charged, leaning down closer to Dean, wanting Dean to look him in the eyes, for his brother to know how upset he was, how friggin' happy he was at the same time.

Faced with Sam's gamut of emotions, Dean retorted, "I know you're not good with subtleties, Sam but…"

"Dean.." Sam pleaded for Dean to stop, to not put on the façade, to allow them to just be brothers, to let down his walls.

Dean got it, everything Sam wanted to say, everything Sam wanted from him. He hesitated, was on the precipice of either giving in or standing fast when Sam's eyes softened.

Releasing a handhold on one of Dean's wrist, Sam gently caught Dean's chin in his grip. Turning his brother's head, he got a nice view of his brother's blood crusted lip, cut eyebrow and the red splotches on his brother's jaw line that he knew would morph into a colorful array of bruises before long. "How did this happen?" concern lacing his inquiry.

"The usual way. A fist hitting my face." Dean smiled as his flippancy treated him to one of Sammy's famous scowls.

But whatever comeback Sam was about to make, the sound of footfalls pounding toward them cut him off. Surging to his feet, Sam began to spin around, was ready to stand between Dean and _fifty _Manticore soldiers. A ridiculous smile burst onto his lips when he saw it was Alec heading their way, that their family reunion was about to be complete.

Smiling, eyes gleaming with incredulousness and contentment, Alec drew to a halt a few paces from Sam and the rumpled figure of his big brother on the ground. He had nearly mistrusted his eyesight when he thought he saw _Dean _pounding across the parking lot. It had only taken the sight of Sam taking up chase to dispel his doubts. Even as he ran for his brothers, joined the Winchester sprint, he cringed as Sam's tackle took both of his brothers to the ground. '_That had to hurt._'

Without looking behind him, Sam shot out a hand to steady Dean as he struggled to his feet. And then he stood there, felt warmth spread through him as he watched Alec's reaction to Dean, the way his little brother's eyes sharply inspected Dean with proficiency and yet were welling with barely checked joy.

For a guy who always had a smart aleck comment on hand for every occasion, Alec's silence was almost unnerving to Dean. It was worse than Sam's anger. He was about to lend Alec a sarcastic line when Alec closed in the distance between them. Every ounce of air was squeezed out of him as Alec enveloped him in a crushing hug.

But he gladly sacrificed a few minutes of air for what he got in return. His own arms circling Alec, he held his brother just as tightly, allowed his chin to come to rest on Alec's shoulder. Felt relief and happiness and contentment burn through the last of his walls even as he disparagingly thought, '_I'm turning into such a girl'_, because returning the hug, it wasn't all about Alec's needs. Not at all.

Dean was real, was there, wasn't hurt. Well wasn't hurt too badly by Alec's estimation. And there was strength in Dean's grip, and relief and affection were emanating off Dean, coiling with his own revved up emotions.

Mimicking one of Max's less than endearing habits, Alec gave Dean a light slap on the back of the head before pulling free of his big brother.

"Ow!" Dean growled, put a hand to his head, though Alec's slap was little more than a tap, especially compared to the blows he had received during his last gas stop. "What was that for?"

"Where do I begin," Alec frostily returned as he stepped back to stand at Sam's side. He and Sam would provide a united front against any bullcrap logic Dean wanted to throw at them. They were together now and they were staying that way.

As Sam watched Alec and Dean hug, a spike of jealously shot through him. Alec hadn't thought about it, hadn't weighed the consequences, didn't worry how Dean would react…he had just done it. Had hugged Dean, had told Dean a thousand things without words. Words that Sam couldn't say, wouldn't say, didn't know if Dean would welcome him saying. Again he had let anger be his response but he felt so much more than that with his brother finally standing before him. Alive, with him, with them.

It was his move, Dean knew that. Even as he knew that what happened next, it wasn't going to be his decision. "So I guess I owe Lydecker a beat down for helping you find me …."

"He didn't tell us where you were," Alec readily denied Dean's assumptions. "His contacts are pretty dried up."

Dean tilted his head in confusion, "Then how…"

"Luck," Sam hoarsely supplied, throwing in a shrug to make it seem that it was as easy of an answer as that, that inside he was thanking God for the newest turn of events.

Dean snorted, rarely believing in luck and never in _good_ luck. "Well, that and the fact that I got jumped by some of Manticore's finest at the last gas station before I could fill up the car."

Happenstance, a twist of fate, luck, an answer to the pleadings that had run non-stop through his head, Alec didn't know which to offer thanks to, chose to voice the one that would get a reaction out of Dean. "Well, then we owe those guys for making you stop at _this_ gas station."

"Yeah, maybe you want to get them a gift card or something," Dean groused, but his irk only caused both of his brothers to smirk.

"To the Sports Authority?" Sam recommended, grabbing Dean by the arm and tugging him in step with him and Alec as they began walking back to the convenience store.

"Subscription to Guns and Ammo," Alec suggested, cockily nudging Dean with his shoulder.

"Tell me when you two start to be funny," Dean grumbled but there was a spring in his step as he was sandwiched between his two brothers. Though he hadn't slept in days, he suddenly felt more lucid than he had since he bailed on his brothers back in the city.

"Oh, we're always funny. It's you who's not," Alec drawled back, smiling across Dean's scowling features to a laughing Sam.

Playfully, Dean gave a backhanded slap into Sam's gut, effectively cutting off his brother's laughter. But it backfired on him because Sam's laughter bubbled out with more gusto a minute later.

It wasn't a hug, but Sam knew Dean's slap was the equivalent of one, said the same things. But, of course, in a more Winchester, macho way.

Hearing Sam's laughter, seeing Dean's feigned scowl, as strange as it was, Alec didn't think he could be much happier than he was in that moment. Yeah, Manticore was zeroing in on Dean to return him to Boris' exam table, wanted him and Sam dead but he was with his brothers, they were **together**. And, when it all came down to it, that truly was the only thing that mattered to him.

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TBC

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See, I finally got the boys back together again! I'm as happy about that as you all are.

Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews for last chapter! And thanks to everybody reading this story!

Have a great day.

Cheryl W.


	25. Chapter 25: What Matters Most pt 17

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

Author's Note: Well since Supernatural is preempted for baseball tonight (insert pout here)…I thought I would use my time wisely until it came on at 12:30am and post this chapter.

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Chapter 25 – What Matters Most – part 17

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Steering his newly hotwired vehicle onto the highway, Sam couldn't help but commend himself on his choice: an inconspicuous '85 grey, beat up truck. Nothing flashy like his brothers had chosen. And, contrary to Dean and Alec's predictions, the truck had a robust engine under the rusted hood, was probably used to working the farm, hauling machinery and hay from one acre to another.

Needless to say, no one argued when he said he would drive first.

With a final whine, Dean had conceded defeat and slid into the middle of the benchseat, groused that he knew how a burger felt jammed between bread when Alec climbed in and shut the door. For three men who all topped six feet, it was a little bit of a tight fit. Alec chimed in with the word 'Cozy' but that comment earned him a death glare from Dean.

But Dean's displeasure with his new accommodations, it didn't last.

When Dean fell silent, Sam spared a look from the road to check on his brother. He couldn't help the tender smile at the sight that greeted him: Dean slumped against Alec in exhaustive sleep.

Thinking to share a smirk with Alec at their big bad brother looking so vulnerable, Sam was surprised to see Alec looking down at Dean's slack features with trepidation. Alec looked nervous, like he had been asked to hold a baby instead of just letting his brother use his shoulder as a pillow. And Sam could have sworn that Alec was regulating his breathing, was keeping it shallow, as if he worried that his inhale/ exhale would joggle Dean awake.

Taking pity on his brother, Sam quietly ensured, "He's out."

Alec's eyes snapped up to Sam's, knew by his brother's warm but teasing expression that his discomfort had been observed. But, darn it, he was used to Dean being the pillar of strength. And it was more than that. Manticore had made sure that he knew more about hurting ordinaries than …than holding them.

"If you want to move him…" Sam offered, didn't know how to interpret the emotion in Alec's eyes right then.

"No!" Alec emphatically refused before he dropped his voice to a whisper. "No." The last thing he wanted to do was to break the connection with Dean, to forfeit the trust Dean was showing him. When Sam nodded, returned his focus to the road, showed his own trust in him to not further hurt their brother, Alec slumped lower in the seat until Dean's head rested more comfortably on his shoulder.

Alec held his breath as Dean stirred. But Dean didn't skitter away from his presence, instead he leaned more heavily against him. '_I should have thought to get some ice_,' he chided himself as he noted that the bruises were staring to make their appearance on Dean's features. His gut tightened at the thought of Dean taking on the 4 man squad all alone. Course, leave it up to Dean to not only thrash the squad but have the presence of mind to grab a phone and one of their trackers off them.

"You know what Dean's plan is? What's in Tennessee?" he quietly asked, lifting his eyes from Dean to watch Sam's profile.

"No," Sam grimly admitted. Dean was being closed mouthed about his plans, had simply said head for Tennessee. From past experience, he knew that, whenever Dean purposefully avoided outlining a plan, it was because he knew his little brother wouldn't like it, not one bit.

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A light tapping on his cheek pulled Dean from his dreamless sleep. Before the new chain of events fell into place, he panicked at the realization that he had dozed off, that he was letting down his guard. Jerking upright, he slammed his knee into the dashboard, recoiled as a hand fell on his shoulder and whipped his head to the right.

"Hey, easy. We're just stopping for some breakfast," Alec calmly said, easily pinpointed the second Dean knew where he was and who he was with.

Heart skittering back to normal at the sight of Alec, of realizing he wasn't on his own, that there was someone there to have his back, Dean didn't allow his relief to show, instead mumbled, "What state are we in?" Rolling his neck, he nonchalantly determined that Sam was already out of the truck, was still standing in the open door, watching him.

"Just passed the Tennessee border," Sam supplied, inspecting Dean, found his brother had an impressive array of bruises on the left side of his face. With the bandages around his neck and wrist and the contusions on his face, Dean looked like he had been involved in a horrific crash.

"Really," Dean drawled, impressed at the progress his brother had made. But instead of lavishing praise on Sam, he patted the truck's dashboard. "Old girl did good."

"She's not KITT, Dean. She didn't drive herself across two states," Sam grumbled but knew he had been had when Dean's cut lip flipped up into a smile.

"Someone's a little grumpy this morning," Dean taunted but it was Alec who gave a comeback.

"We're tired too, Dean. You know why that is?" Alec cuttingly challenged, didn't wait for a reply before he continued. "Because we spent the last couple of days chasing your butt, worried that you were going to get yourself killed." His anger surfacing because, though he had just spent the last couple of hours basking in Dean's presence, in Sam's, with his happy relief had also come a harsh awareness of how things might have turned out differently. Dean could have kept running from them, could have been captured or even gotten himself killed.

"This from the guy who said he wished he never met me," Dean sallied back, the words just coming out, unintentionally having been waiting in the wings for the right time to throw them in Alec's face, to see if his brother meant them…then or now.

All the color drained out of Alec's face at Dean's offhanded echo of his own words. "Dean, I didn't mean that."

"He knows that," Sam snapped, glaring at Dean, silently ordering his brother to play nice. "Now get out of the truck. We're not staying long."

"Now who sounds like Dad," Dean muttered under his breath as he scooted across the seat and jumped out of the truck onto the restaurant's parking lot. As the threesome walked into the restaurant, they scanned their surroundings, took in every face, catalogued every exit and unconsciously fingered the guns they had tucked into their waists.

They ate in silence, the things they needed to talk about, the things each wanted to say taking a backseat to their hunger, to the simple contentment of engaging in a normal family ritual of having a meal together. Even the waitress seemed loath to speak in their silence, refilling their coffee cups without prompting or conversation and hurriedly leaving the three good looking men to their privacy.

So it was only after their meal was down to crumbs that Sam turned in his seat to face Dean. "Ok, so what's this plan you have."

"It's a good one, don't worry."

"Right, it's so good you don't want to tell us," Alec perceptively surmised, sharing a conspiring look with Sam.

"Don't want to tell you all my trade secrets," Dean repelled Alec's speculation, his cocky smile on full power.

But Sam was used to bulldozing through Dean's deflections. "Too bad, Dean. Spill. Now, where are we headed?"

"Place just outside Savannah," Dean vaguely supplied, finding the bottom of his empty coffee cup fascinating.

Sam's gut clenched. Dean's avoidance of a direct answer sent warning flares through him. With controlled evenness, he pressed, eyes on Dean, tracking his brother's every facial tick, "What place just outside Savannah?"

"Pittsburg Landing," Dean meekly admitted, already cringing internally, knowing that the explosion was about to come. Sam didn't disappoint.

Sam's outburst was instantaneous. "What? The Morton House wasn't enough fun for you? You wanna try our luck at the battle of Shiloh's most haunted house, too! If the Morton House was our Grand Canyon, what is this? Our Tijuana?"

"Ok, you two lost me," Alec interjected but neither brother paid him any attention.

"Sam, just hear me out," Dean pressed, watched Sam's jaw clench but a moment later give way to a curt nod. "Manticore invited me into their little shop of horrors so I'm inviting them into mine. Turn around is fair play."

Slowly but surely, Sam's jaw unclenched and a light of understanding dawned. "Lead them into the field hospital…"

"And we get out before things go South…or North as the case may be," Dean said, smirking at his own joke.

Alec waved his hand between his brothers' locked eye contact. "Yo, new ghost buster here. You're talking gibberish to me."

Turning to face Alec, Dean began to explain things with the patience and kindness that Sam always admired in his brother. "The civil war battle of Shiloh was fought near Pittsburg Landing."

Alec nodded. "Manticore did a quick facts-only overview of the Civil War. Shiloh was a bad mother of a battle, I remember that much."

Sam interjected a vital piece of the story. "The casualties were over 25,000."

Knowing that his brothers didn't usually talk just to hear themselves, Alec stamped down his impatience for them to get to the major plot point already. "Nice recap of history but what does that have to do with the horde of Manticore's finest heading our way?"

Sparing Alec another few minutes of great but secondary information, Sam bluntly stated, "Troubled souls. Lots of them. With carnage like the battle of Shiloh, the battlefields and surrounding areas are rampant with spirits. And one farm house in particular is .."

"Ghost headquarters," Dean picked up the narrative again. "Last people who tried to spend the night there, well, they didn't see the light of day."

"Alright, I'm officially creeped out. So why this particular house?" Alec asked, eyes tracking between Dean and Sam, hoping that it would all make sense soon.

Dean sighed, rubbed his brow, never liked recounting massive deaths as if he were a detached narrator for some A&E special. "The farm lane leading to the house was nick-named the Hornet's Nest because of the heavy artillery fire that rained down from and to that position. Union guys hunkered down there on the lane and picked off the Confederates as they approached their position, then the Confederates returned the favor in a big way by lobbing cannonballs at them."

"And the Fraley's farm house was used as a field hospital," Sam added, knew that fact was as vital as the sunken road battle.

It started to make grim sense to Alec and he wished that it didn't. "Lots of dead and dying in violent ways, got it. And so you want those ghosts to do our dirty work for us, take out Manticore's troops. I'm not opposed to that but how do we tell the ghosts that we're the good guys? Do we need to dig up some Union or Confederate uniforms?"

"As the saying goes, the freaks come out at night," Dean offhandedly said.

Seeing Alec's confusion, Sam explained, "Legend goes that the ghosts only appear after dark."

"Ok," Alec drawled, felt a tinge of uneasiness that they were betting their lives on a legend. "So we lure the Manticore hit squad into the house and then what? We sneak out the back before night fall and let old soldiers get reacquainted with new soldiers?" a tinge of disbelief and reproof in his tone for a strategy that he thought offered all risk with only a minimal shot at success.

Undeterred by his brother's tone, Dean smirked. "Yeah, something like that. When the sun goes down, they all go to the big battleground in the sky. But **I** lure them in."

"No, it's all of us!" Sam refuted, tension singing along his nerves at even the thought of Dean walking into that house alone, without him.

Dean sent Sam an incredulous look. "You think the Manticore soldiers are all going to go charging in like they did back at the house, let us blew more of them up? No, they will hold some of their numbers back. You two need to handle the ones that stay outside."

But Sam had been swayed far too many times into letting Dean do something stupid. "I'm not letting you go into that house alone, Dean," his voice hard and unwavering, sure proof that he wasn't going to settle for anything less than a full victory.

"I wouldn't be alone, Sammy. I will probably have _lots_ of company," Dean joked back but Sam's glare turned even more glacier.

"You think I'm going to back down, let you do things your own stubborn, reckless way but I'm not," Sam hissed back, deliberately keeping his voice low though he wanted to shout loud enough to shake the restaurant's rafters.

Afraid that World War III would soon erupt, Alec snapped, "Hey, I'm part of this too!" snagging both of his brothers' attention. "It's the stupidest plan I've ever heard of…" seeing Dean' hurt scowl, he relented, "But I'll go along with it because I trust you. Both of you," his look encompassing Sam. "But just so we're clear. Any one of us not walking away from this, that isn't acceptable. We can't risk losing each other again, we just…can't."

Alec's fearless way of voicing his feelings, of telling them how he felt about them, of alluding to how they felt about each other had Dean looking away and Sam scoffing his fingernail along the Formica table.

Recognizing that he had embarrassed his macho brothers into silent, avoidance mode, Alec sighed. Shaking his head, he wondered, '_How did I, the engineered assassin, end up being the sensitive one in the family?_!' But he wasn't, by any means, a pushover, proved it by demanding, "So, look me in the eye and tell me this is the best, safest plan we can come up with."

Simultaneously his brothers' heads snapped up, their eyes landed on him and they confidently replied.

"It is," Dean firmly vowed even as Sam petulantly growled, "It's not."

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There were advantages to being the oldest, Dean smugly thought. Fighting to keep the smirk of victory off his features, he climbed out of the truck, watched as his brothers did the same. Sam and Alec might not _like_ his plan, might down right _hate_ it…but they were following his lead, trusted that, no matter how reckless he might be with his own life, he never was with theirs. Well, almost never.

This plan, _his_ plan, it was going to work. Mostly because it had to. The other options? Him and his brothers trying to outrun Manticore for another couple of weeks? He knew how that ultimately would end, for all of them. No, his plan gave them a fighting chance. And if there was one thing his family knew how to do, it was fight.

So with bags of weapon laden bags swung over their shoulders, the three Winchesters stood at the wire mesh fence, purposefully turning blind eyes to the "No trespassing, violators will be prosecuted" signs posted on the fence. The house that lay behind the fence was in sad repair, had probably not seen a paintbrush, nails or inhabitants in half a century.

"I'm a brave guy, I am. But this place…" Alec shivered, the white dilapidated farm house looked about as uninviting as a coffin. And it offered the same dark essence that the evil dead always did, but ten fold.

Sam couldn't have agreed more with Alec. "Tell me about it," he muttered.

Showing no such reservations, Dean snapped the deadbolt off with cutters and swung the gate open.

Grabbing Dean by the arm, Sam jerked his brother to a halt before he crossed over the property's boundary line. "You sure about this? If the legend is wrong…"

"Like the Morton house legend was wrong," a challenge in Dean's statement.

A little miffed by Dean's bragging, Sam angrily fired back, "Dean, we got trapped in there and I almost went to my very first and very last birthday party."

"That's 'cause you're such a party pooper sometimes, Sammy."

Sam hoped his heated glare said more than shouting could, knew it did when Dean relented.

"Ok, I admit that didn't go down as smoothly as I wanted but this…" Dean swung his hand toward the house as if he were showing Sam a showcase he could win, "is the real deal Sam. It's just some run-of-the-mill pissed off spirits."

"Who want to kill each other …" Sam began and Alec finished with, "And anyone they perceive as the enemy. Like most definitely us."

"Come on," Dean chuckled. "You would think this was the first time we were tripping the light fantastic with some dead guys."

"Twenty four _thousand_ causalities, Dean," Sam acidly pointed out, giving a bitter laugh with his next words. "That's a little more that just a few spirits at unrest."

"Casualties, Sam. Not deaths," Dean corrected.

"Right, cause we've never heard of people dying somewhere else and their spirits coming back to the spot in life that tormented them the most," Sam's tone dripped with sarcasm.

"Aren't you Mr.-the-glass-is-bone-dry," Dean baited.

Abruptly the air erupted with the sound of musket fire.

All three brothers instantly went motionless, strained to hear what they could not have possibly heard.

But a few moments later, the sound of more musket fire vibrated through the late afternoon sky.

"Please tell me that was part of a reenactment?" Alec tersely asked, crossing his fingers that a 'of course, silly' was headed his way. But the grim looks exchanged between his brothers told him that things weren't going to go that easy for them.

Attempting to appear unconcerned, Dean surmised with a humorless smile, "Guess they are starting the party early."

"Maybe you didn't notice, but that wasn't coming from inside the _house_, Dean," Sam sourly pointed out. "Fraley's field," he said at the same time as Dean, both simultaneously figuring out where the rifle fire was coming from. The place where the battle of Shiloh had began back in 1862.

With fear starting to get a good grip on him, Sam entreated his brother with a simple utterance of his name, "Dean."

"Ok, so this haunting might be happening on a bigger scale than we thought," Dean conceded. Raising his pointer finger, he added on positively, "But nobody has gotten killed outside the house…."

"That we know about," Sam sharply cut in.

"You two bring me to the _nicest_ places," Alec sarcastically muttered. "Makes sloshing around a sewer with Max sound like a dream vacation."

Dean offered a smile to Alec that did nothing to settle either of his brothers' nerves. "Oh don't worry."

"Yeah, and why not?" Alec scoffed, couldn't wait to hear the good news.

"In Hebrew, Shiloh means place of peace," Dean revealed with a twist of his lips. Giving Alec a pat on the chest and slipping free of Sam's grip, he purposely stalked toward the farm house.

"Yeah, eternal peace wasn't what I had in mind for tonight," Alec grumbled under his breath but yelled to Dean's back. "Don't make me come in there after you."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean downplayed with a wave of his hand.

Turning to his sane brother, Alec asked, "Is it just me or does this plan suck?"

"Dean has had worse plans that worked," Sam acknowledged but there a noticeable lack of conviction in his tone.

"I'm not sure if that's a comfort," Alec resentfully shot back.

Blanching, Sam confessed, "Me either." Tightening his grip on his bag, he offered Alec a small smile, ordered "Be careful," before he followed in Dean's footsteps. Though he was relieved that Dean had seen reason and finally agreed that they _both_ would enter the house, it didn't feel great leaving Alec behind, letting Alec outside to take care of any sentinels Manticore would position on the perimeter of the house. But it was still worlds better than Alec stepping into ghost central with them.

"You be careful too," Alec quietly ordered even though he knew Sam didn't hear him. But he had said his peace before, had told his big brothers how he would feel if they screwed up, left him standing out there playing sentry duty while they did something stupid like got themselves killed. Dean and Sam had to know that, a few thousand ghosts looking to torture them forever, that would be the least of their problems if they didn't come back to him.

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Stepping through the farm house doorway, Sam nearly ran into Dean, came up a millimeter short of knocking Dean over only by reaching out, steadying himself with a hand on the coiled muscles of his brother's shoulder. He was about to ask Dean what was wrong when his mouth went dry.

The house wasn't deserted, far from it.

Instead, every square inch was alive with a flurry of activity, offered a sensory overload of horrific smells, ghastly sights and soul decimating screams of agony. They were all there. Still there. The wounded, the dying were laying on the floor, on makeshift stretchers, on every available piece of furniture, blood coating their clothing, sputtering out of their mouths, dried to their skin in death. And the nurses and other women, they knelt by the wounded, closed the eyes of the dead, carried bowls of water and ripped strips of linen, shushed the screams as the doctors manhandled destroyed limbs, sewed up sword wounds, extracted bullets.

It was real…and yet, the figures occupying the house weren't corporeal, weren't quite all there, were translucent, as if only a shade of their bodies had remained. Neither Winchester had ever witnessed anything like it before.

As he stepped forward, Dean noticed that no one looked at him or watched his progress into the room. It was as he was the ghost instead of them. Turning around, he wanted, needed to see Sam, to be assured that he hadn't slipped alone into another universe but his attention was snagged instead by a soldier with a messenger bag. A soldier that was running for the door, was on a crash course with him. He tried to dodge left, to move out of the kid's way. He wasn't fast enough.

The soldier ran right through Dean and out the door, left a subzero chill coursing through the hunter in his wake.

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TBC

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A show of hands of the people who thought I could throw in a _Civil War_ reference into this story? Well, after this twist, I'm hoping you are not removing this story from your alert setting, turning off your computers and heading off to go watch paint dry.

I will admit that I took major liberties with history. I don't know if there was a farm house at Shiloh. I certainly don't know if any residences were close enough to the battle to be used as a field hospital. But there was a civil war battle named Shiloh that took place a few miles from Pittsburg Landing, Tennessee.

Thanks as always to my reviewers and readers! I almost have the next part ready to go.

Have a great evening!


	26. Chapter 26: What Matters Most pt 18

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

Author's Note: Thanks so much for the wonderful support in the crazy turn I've made in the story. I hope you continue to enjoy it.

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Chapter 26 – What Matters Most – part 18

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Too slow to yank Dean out of the way, Sam watched in stunned horror and fascination as the ghost slipped _through_ his brother. "Dean," he called out with trepidation. Urgently, he reached out and seized Dean by the shoulders as a violent shiver jolted through his brother's body.

"Hey, hey, you OK?" Sam worriedly pressed, bending down to look Dean in the eyes. He didn't draw in a true breath until Dean raised his head and looked at him, until he knew it was still all Dean at his side.

"Dude, that so wasn't cool," Dean exhaled. Giving himself a mental shake, he shucked out of Sam's hold and did a circle where he stood to take in the activity of the room. "They are here but…"

"They aren't," Sam finished, knew Dean's thoughts as if they were his own because, most of the time, they were.

"Have you ever…"

"No," Sam answered the question before Dean asked it. "Nothing in Dad's journal has ever described something like this. It's like they are caught in time."

Dean walked over to a nurse, crouched down at her side and waved his hand in her face. He got absolutely no reaction from her. "It doesn't make any sense but this feels like…déjà vu, like I'm the ghost instead of them."

Sam fought off a shiver, knew in his gut that his reaction had nothing to do with the happenings right then and there. No, it was all about memories, his memories of a comatose Dean, of his brother walking around as a spirit, fending off a reaper who thought she had the right to take his brother away from him just because Dean was on her checklist.

Forcing himself to concentrate on the danger at hand, Sam warned, "They don't seem to notice us but _something_ has been killing people in this house, Dean."

Swiftly standing up, Dean dodged left and barely avoided having two soldiers and a stretcher-bound body go through him. Sighing in relief at the near miss, he crossed back over to Sam. "Well, whatever killed those people we need to sic them on our invited guests. Well, unless you think Manticore will never darken our doors again if they have a little one on one ghost encounter that's about as painful as getting a Dairy Queen blizzard brain freeze," he sardonically posed.

"Dean, we don't know when or _if_ Manticore is even coming here tonight," Sam said, resurrecting their previous debate.

"Lydecker said they were on my trail. Close," Dean presented his evidence all over again.

"Yeah, funny how, once we already found you, he called with a bead on your location _and_ Boris' goon squad."

"You would think that would earn him gratitude, not distrust, Sam."

"Well sorry if I'm not as prone to put a whole lot of trust in people who hurt my family as you are," Sam defensively shot back.

But Dean's reply, it turned into a startled yelp as three soldiers walked through both him and Sam, sent cold racing down his nerve endings. Shaking off the wrongness of how that felt, Dean focused again on his brother. "Sooner rather than later they are coming. I don't even need to visit Lydecker's tip-line to know that. And so do you, Sam," a grim certainty was in his tone, glistened in his eyes. But there was something else, a desire for Sam to trust his gut feeling, to be willing to back him up even if he didn't.

Steadying himself with an inhale, Sam nodded with bleak concurrence. He couldn't deny Dean's instincts or his own, both of which seemed to be screaming that something was catching up with them. Fast. "Alright, so I guess we split up. I'll take the first floor…"

"I'll take the second," Dean readily concurred. "First one to find a pissed off Civil War vet wins."

"Yeah, and what's the prize?" Sam grumbled, but the enthusiastic, child-like smile Dean gave him was hard to stay mad at. "Just don't get cocky, Dean. If what's been killing people is one or more of these spirits, they are probably soldiers who still think they are fighting the war. They won't hesitate to kill anyone they believe to be their enemy."

"Thanks, _Dad, _but Ithink I already knew that from watching '_When Ghosts attack_,'" Dean sallied back as he started to climb the stairs. He smirked at the "Jerk" Sam tossed at his back.

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Crouched in the unkempt underbrush that bordered the rutted farm lane, Alec discovered a profound truth. It was one thing to go hunting ghosts with his two brothers, who made it seem "natural" to come face to face with the homicidal undead. It was a totally _different_ experience to be all alone on the grounds of a friggin' haunted house. And not just any haunted house. No, this particular house wasn't credited with having a spirit or two traipsing around on a revenge trip but possibly thousands.

"This is so much worse than being stuck with Max in a closet waiting to steal some Star Wars footage," Alec whispered to himself, his eyes making a visual sweep from the open gate he and his brothers had walked through to the perimeter of the house. Then there was the occasional I-feel-like-something-is-sneaking-up-behind-me quick look over his shoulder. It was clear on all fronts. Too bad that so didn't make him feel better.

His body tensed as yet another round of musket fire echoed in the Tennessee air. '_It could be a reenactment. Dean and Sam could be wrong_.' But instantly he scoffed, '_Yeah, like they are ever wrong about the bad stuff.' _

And then, as if to prove that point, he heard movement in the lane he had checked two seconds prior.

Jerking his head to the right, Alec saw that the lane wasn't deserted anymore, that men dressed in muddy blue uniforms and holding rifles all the rage a hundred and fifty years ago were running down the packed dirt lane as if the Boogeyman himself was after them. He could hear terrified shouts, cries of startled agony and the gallop of horses.

Suddenly a horse whished by him, its rider sporting a crisp Union uniform adorned with a brigadier general's insignia and bellowing orders to the scared soldiers under his command, "Men, take up position in the trench! We'll hold the left flank nice and tight from here." Some men kept running, seemed like they weren't going to stop running until they hit their own home's front door, but most men, they dodged to the right, leaping over or crawling under the split rail fence and pushing their way through the dense underbrush.

Fearing that any movement would alert the soldiers to his presence, Alec froze, watched, with held breath, as the seemingly endless stream of Union soldiers scrambled to find sanctuary across the lane from his position. Only a few yards separated him from them, their wide terrified eyes looking right at him, right through him. If he didn't know better he would have thought he had fallen asleep, that his brothers' scary stories had conjured up a nightmare. '_It's a nightmare alright. But one that's real_.'

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The upstairs of the farm house was much like the downstairs, every inch utilized to hold the wounded. But there was cruelly less ventilation, very little outlets for the foul stench of blood, bodily fluids, and rotting corpses to filter away to.

Dean just barely kept himself from gagging as he pressed himself against the wall to let the apparitions pass by. Whatever fascination he had had with the Civil War was fast fading to sick revulsion. Suddenly it didn't seem like men fighting the good fight. This was men dying in the most horrible of ways for causes that would continue to rage the world over, forever: freedom, respect of persons, greed over morality.

Stepping into a room, he immediately stumbled back out. Seeing a limb amputated on a very human, very awake man had never been on his gotta-see list. It was pretty high on his so-didn't-need-to-see-that-in-person list now. But his retreat put him back into the hallway, right in the path of a confederate soldier whose right eye was unseeing and his face was scarred by fire.

Bracing himself for the chill this particular soldier's passing through him would cause, he was shocked to have something very solid crash into his shoulder, nearly spin him around. With wide eyes, he watched as the soldier turned toward him and his one working eye bore unmistakably into his. And the look in the soldier's eye was more profound than _Get out of my way_. Instead it was something far more menacing. _You don't belong here_. Then the ghost _shouldered_ by him.

Watching the soldier head down the hallway, Dean breathed out, "Ah crap" right before he was pushed aside by a doctor rushing down the hallway. Stunned, he said aloud, "They are all becoming corporeal." He had enough composure to cringe at the notion that he had just used one of Sam's words. '_Great, not only am I sharing a time share with fifty ghosts now I'm talking like college boy_.'

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Hesitantly, Sam reached out toward the soldier lying on the cot nearest his position in the small sitting room. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or scared spit-less when his fingers connected with fabric and flesh. '_Oh crap_,' he thought as he recoiled at the revelation as much as from the soldier and shot backwards a few feet.

Suddenly, he wasn't sure who was stepping more into whose reality. He couldn't help worry that he and Dean had had it wrong. That by night fall, it wouldn't be the spirits stepping into _their_ world but instead he and Dean would forever be immersed in theirs. That they would remain here, in this stitch of time that held these souls, trapped them, left them suffering, for all eternity.

All calmness fled from Sam at that horrifying prospect, at a fate far worse than the Morton House could have ever threatened. He was about to bellow up the stairs for Dean when a boom shook the house, reverberated through his chest. Hastily he reached out, steadied himself against the walls. Another boom followed on the heels of the first, sent another shockwave through the house's frame.

As inconceivable as it was, he knew what he was hearing, what had the very ground he stood on shuddering. "Cannons," he breathed, felt a new tsunami of terror surge through him at the implications.

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Though Dean rode out the first tremor like a surfing pro, the second percussion tossed him across the hallway, had his shoulder slamming painfully into the wall.

"Now what?" he growled as he pushed off the wall. Stalking into a small bedroom and stepping over the wounded on the floor, he made his way to a window.

What he saw made his breath catch in his throat.

Twenty five yards out from the farm house's front door, the ground was littered with downed trees and there were small craters pockmarking the packed dirt of the lane. But worse than all of that, there was a flash of light as a cannonball arched through the sky, touchdown and exploded, shredding the nearest trees into kindling and riddling the area with iron fragments.

Exactly at the spot he had left Alec.

"No!" Dean shouted in denial and fear and fury. He was about to spin around when something made him lean in shock against the window, try to get a better view. Confederate soldiers, thousands of them, formed up in two lanes, marching across the open field to the right of the house. A few officers on horseback were among the numbers, playing puppet masters to the insanity. They were about to march right into the Hornet's Nest and consequently to their deaths.

Eyes flying to his left, he saw what he knew he would: the Union army, hunkering down on the sunken road. Their numbers of rifle barrels peeking through the underbrush, of soldiers down on their bellies by the fence, ready to take their shots when the Confederate lines came within range were more than he could count.

Dean's heart dropped to his boots as he realized Alec would be caught in the two armies' crossfire. '_Great thinking Dean! You just put your family's ghost-hunter-in-training right at ground zero for the biggest ghost rally of the friggin' century.'_

Jumping over the patients on the floor, knocking a Union soldier off his feet in the hallway, Dean ran for the stairs. He promptly swore. The stairs were now blocked by soldiers in various stages of coming, going and not ever moving again. "Sam!" he shouted from the top of the stairs, was relived when Sam ran into view, looking as panicked as he felt. "Go to Alec!"

Sam didn't offer one protest to Dean's order, agreed too whole heartedly with Dean's decision. Alec wasn't equipped to handle a haunting of this magnitude. '_None of us are_,' he pessimistically thought as he slammed out the front door at a run, bound down the steps and found himself sliding to a halt at the implausible sight before him.

Carnage, never pure and not so simple.

The plum of smoke from rifle fire, the gleam of a swishing sword, the boom of cannonfire, enraged cries and screams of agony. Men clad in grey uniforms ran across the open field, every second many of their number were felled by bullets and cannonball explosions. The wave of assault left bloody, savaged bodies in its wake, desecrating the once peaceful field. And in death, the soldiers were both aid and handicap to their cause, tripping up both enemy and ally alike on the battlefield. The Confederate flag was pried out of a dead hand and hoisted again in the air as the charge pressed forward. And beyond the small farm lane, Sam saw the Stars and Stripes regally standing guard over the line of blue uniform clad soldiers. Both flags of the warring sides were held high, as if their mere presence justified their actions, made them righteous.

But Sam didn't have time to marvel at what he was seeing, the improbability of it, of how sick he felt watching lives lost on such a grand scale. He only cared about protecting the lives of the people he loved best.

Hoping that his recollection of the battle of Shiloh wasn't too far off from the current events unfolding, he tore off to the left, intended to go behind the Union lines in the Sunken Road to get to Alec's position. He just crossed his fingers that the soldiers couldn't see him, and if they did, they didn't think it was a great idea to shoot him.

An explosion changed Sam's full out charge to a football dodge to the left. Still, he slipped in the mud and landed on his knees as the percussion of the impact rattled the ground. Surging to his feet, he ran for the ravine on the other side of the lane, telling himself the whole time that Alec was fine, that Alec was a genetically enhanced soldier for Pete sake, that Alec, of all people, knew when artillery came flying over head to get the heck out of its way.

But there was more than cannon fire to contend with. Sam almost realized that too late. Sliding like he was aiming for home plate, he practically _felt_ the Confederate soldiers' fire zip over his head. '_So much for being under their radar_,' he dismally thought even as he scrambled to his feet. Crouching as he ran, he dove headfirst over the split rail fence into the Union Army's left flank.

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Wiping mud from his face, Alec made his way farther away from the cannon fire drop zone and the Union line but kept the house within sight. If he had been a little slower, if he had wondered a little longer about the strange boom he heard, he would now be able to don a uniform and join the undead.

Crouched in the thicket, he had a front row seat to the two legendary forces of the Civil War engaging in one of the bloodiest of their battles. It was a gruesome clash of men clad in uniforms. And in the lawlessness of war, the blue uniforms blended in with the grey, made the notion of bayoneting a compatriot not only possible but probably. All weapons were fair game in this clash: guns, bayonets, knives, swords, fists, feet. Soon Alec wasn't sure if the soldiers' threadbare boots were splashing more in mud or blood.

'_And Manticore actually thought they needed to __**improve**__ on man's ability to kill each other.'_

He flinched as a bullet whipped into the thicket, nearly missing his head. '_Too close, too close._' Not too proud to crawl, he dropped to all fours and started to navigate over downed trees and through the dense underbrush away from the warring forces. But it went against his core, to retreat, to run away. As much as he told himself it wasn't his fight, it was another thought that soothed his bruised ego the most. '_Can't help Sam and Dean if I'm dead_.'

As if someone wanted to provoke him into joining the fight, bullets rained down on his position, thunked into the trees around him. Falling flat onto his stomach, he tried to make himself as thin as he possible as more bullets zinged by. When the barrage ceased, he began slithering forward on his stomach but his progress was slow, roots, scrub oak and down trees blocking his path.

But whichever side had spotted him, they weren't content to let him be a non-combatant. They were coming through the woods after him, their feet trumping through the underbrush and then he heard the tang of southern accents.

"Let's roust 'em out. He's probably trying to get behind our lines."

"He's a quick one. Can't spot 'em."

"Finch left, Parker right, we'll go right up the middle here and run 'em to ground."

It was a bad time to be impressed by his pursuers' mind for tactics, to realize the men involved in this war weren't just a bunch of farm hands that never grasped the finer points to soldiering. They were as hard core as Manticore had trained him to be. And he knew why. Their lives depended on being smarter, tougher and more determined to survive than their enemy. And boy did he get that.

'_And they think I'm their enemy. Just great_.' Wondering if he should chance making a run for it and hope his genetic speed allowed him to dodge a six man firing squad, he realized he had run out of time. Rolling onto his back, he pulled his .45 Magnum gun, had time to curse himself for not grabbing the rocksalt loaded shotgun out of the bag he was lying on before the first soldier came into his line of first.

Even as the gun recoiled in his hand and the bullet left the chamber Alec fervently chanted, '_Please work, please work, please work._' The bullet impacted with the soldier's chest, staggered him backwards…and then the man dissolved into a fine black dust that swirled in place a moment or two and then was blown away by the wind.

Before Alec could process what just happened, another soldier came through the woods toward him. Even as the soldier pressed his finger on the rifle's trigger, Alec fired his semi-automatic, sent that soldier to the four winds like he had the first. Then, hearing something to his right, he swung his gun that way, spotted the three Confederates not more than three yards away from where he lay on the ground. They had him dead to rights, their rifles unerringly sighted on him. And he knew that, as fast as he was, there was no way he would be able to shoot all three men before one of them pulled the trigger.

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TBC

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I was going to make this chapter longer but I just couldn't resist leaving a cliff hanger. Yup, I'm evil. Just ask the boys.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

And special thanks to Adhara Black Cole for her details on the Shiloh battlefield! Though I dusted off and bought books on the Battle of Shiloh for this little obsession, it was awesome that you were willing to help me put together some factually information about the present-day terrain and layout of the battle site! I'm hoping to be able to incorporate a little more of those details into this story.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	27. Chapter 27: What Matters Most pt 19

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

Author's Note: Adhara – You ROCK. Thanks so much for the video and pics on Shiloh!

Warning: There be ghosts ahead.

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Chapter 27 – What Matters Most – part 19

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The three Confederate soldiers had Alec dead to rights, their rifles unerringly sighted on him. And he knew that, as fast as he was, there was no way he would be able to shoot all three men before one of them pulled the trigger.

Suddenly, a beloved sound vibrated through the air: a shotgun blast. Screaming in agony, the three soldiers clutched their bodies where the rocksalt burned through their flesh like acid. And then each man flickered like a sputtering lantern as the last of its oil burned away the last light. Then the soldiers were gone, leaving the tree branches they had brushed against swinging gently from their release.

From his position on the ground, Alec tilted his head backwards to see Sam standing a few paces behind him, his shotgun still aimed at the spot where the three man firing squad had stood seconds before. "Did I mention lately that I love you," Alec quipped even as Sam stalked forward and, less than gently, grabbed him under the elbow and pulled him to his feet.

Too entrenched in super hunter, protect-my-brother mode, Sam didn't comment on Alec's quip, instead he yanked Alec in front of him and prodded his little brother forward, intent on steering them to the battle's rear line, if there was such a thing. Because one thing was certain: they couldn't stay where they were.

"Maybe you're confused but Dean's that way," Alec protested, throwing a thumb over his shoulder.

'_I know that_,' Sam bitterly acknowledged, feeling the weight of what he was doing tearing him apart already. But instead of slowing down, he put his hand on Alec's shoulder, pushed Alec to adopt a greater speed. As hard as it was, this was how it worked, how it had always worked. Dean gave orders and he followed them. He followed them because Dean trusted him to, needed him to. He followed them because his brother's intentions were good, were about saving people, first and foremost. He followed Dean's lead even when he didn't want to, did what his brother asked of him even when everything in him screamed at him not to, obeyed his big brother's directives like he would never, had never obeyed his own father's.

But all that didn't mean he wasn't feeling sick at the thought of leaving Dean behind, of rescuing someone else while Dean got himself, say electrocuted…or worse this time around. Even if that someone else he was saving was family, was his brother, was their brother, was someone he couldn't bear to lose anymore than he could lose Dean.

The very last thing Sam ever wanted to do was to have to choose which brother to save.

And with three little words, _"Go to Alec!" _Dean had made sure he didn't have to.

Like so many times before, Dean didn't allow his little brother to walk the hard road. Instead, he walked it himself, made the choice. Alec's life was to be safeguarded instead of his own.

His attention divided, half of it back in the house with Dean and the other half determined to get Alec out of the living nightmare they had dragged him into, Sam wasn't as alert as he should have been. So Alec's side tackle came out of nowhere. Sacked by his little brother, he impacted harshly with the ground, had the air knocked clear out of him. He lay there unmoving, Alec on top of him, pressing him into the mud. Even as he choked a little on the mud that had found a home in his mouth he sought to determine what direction the danger was coming from that Alec sensed.

"Dead ahead," Alec's lips close enough to his brother's ear that his voice was barely a sound on the wind.

Changing the direction of his gaze, Sam saw through the thicket what Alec had: The arrival of the intended victims of the little shop of horrors going on around them

Thirty Manticore troops were piling out of SUVs and Hummers.

Alec smiled at the sight. '_Let's see how brave you guys are up against two ghost armies…' _Holding his breath, sensing that Sam was unconsciously doing the same, they watched as the troops dispersed, some taking the lane, others scattering in the woods, all wearing the bored expression of professionals called in to clean up something wholly unworthy of their skill.

Looking to the left, Alec watched the Manticore soldiers' progress up the lane, waited with anticipation for them to come face to face with the soldiers of old. At first, he thought the Union soldiers were distracted, were not checking their flanks like they should. But when the Manticore soldiers were only a few yards away from the Union troops and their expressions didn't change from their professional confident masks, Alec knew that somewhere there was a disconnect. That the Manticore soldiers couldn't be seeing what he did.

"What?" Alec whispered in utter disbelief as the Manticore soldiers walked _through_ the soldiers, not through their ranks but through the men themselves.

Sam's breath was a hot whish by his ear. "It must be about belief. We believe they exist, that ghosts exist so we can see them…"

"How is that fair?" Alec hissed with indignation. "Those guys believe it's possible to create truckloads of wacked out creatures from DNA but not in _ghosts_? Come on!"

Sam didn't bother pointing out that Alec hadn't believed in ghosts either, not at first, not until they had shown him one, up close and personal. Instead, he bitterly stated the obvious, "Yeah, this plan is not working."

"Not working? That's all you got to say?" Alec's irk exploding out of him like a live round because this wasn't just some monster hunt that had gone off the rails. This had been their shot, their _best shot_ to free Dean from Manticore. And now, by some sick twist of fate, it was Manticore's best shot at getting Dean, on a friggin' silver platter.

Dean had made himself a sitting duck for nothing. They all had.

Head snapping to the right, Sam saw that two Manticore soldiers were almost within tripping distance of their position on the ground. He was about to alert Alec of the danger when the weight of his brother left his back and the next instant, Alec was upon the two soldiers. Almost faster than Sam could track, his little brother proficiently snapped the closest soldier's neck. Then Alec reached out and clamped his hand over the other soldier's mouth and plunged a knife into the man's chest before releasing the man to crumple lifelessly to the ground.

Stepping over his kills, Alec grimly came back to join Sam in a crouched conference. "If these Civil War fuglies can't kill them, we'll just have to."

"There's like thirty of them, Alec!" Sam incredulously whispered back.

"So," Alec lethally deadpanned before he started making his way through the woods back toward the house, toward Dean. He would _beat_ the 10 to 1 odds they faced against Manticore, would take on the whole two armies of the not-so United States, would do it because the alternative, it wasn't an option. He wasn't going to let anyone take either of his brothers away from him.

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Dean was wwwwaaayyyy past the point of admitting that his plan was a bust.

Nothing in the world was worth risking the lives of his brothers, of putting Sam and Alec in the middle of a friggin' war! '_Screw it. Manticore can hunt my butt down for another few weeks, for the rest of the year for all I care_.' He was going to find his bothers and they were getting out of this bloody, unedited HBO version of North and South.

That goal in mind, he practically scaled the railing to get past the body strewn stairs and reach the first floor. Cursing Manticore's incompetency for not tracking him to the haunted house like they were supposed to and ghosts who didn't have the decency to keep to the boundaries of the house, he stalked for the front door. Determined to walk through hell itself to find his brothers, he opened the door and straight away realized that his comparison wasn't that far off the mark.

Though prepared to skirt around Rebs and Yankees on a killing spree, he stumbled to a stop as he found himself facing a very modern strike force.

He ducked as a canister was ejected from a pump action gun. The first canister sailed through the doorway while others punched through the windows. Even as he kicked the door shut, his eyes were already burning with the tear gas puffing out of the canisters.

Shoving ruthlessly by the unearthly occupants of the house, Dean started for the back door only to change directions as he heard the crack of the wooden door splintering under a boot. Charging up the stairs he had worked so hard to descend, he didn't make apologies for stepping on the wounded soldiers in his path, figured that was the very least of his many offenses. But he thought he might just be getting paid back for his rudeness when he reached the second floor and a Confederate infantryman aimed his musket at him from the other end of the hallway.

The shot sank into the wallpaper as he ducked.

Leaning against the wall a moment to still his racing heart, Dean groused, "What? Is it suddenly open season on me!"

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Crashing through the woods, Sam, when he was close enough, reached out and snagged Alec's arm, stopped his brother's determined locked-on-target pace.

"Sam, you're not going to change my mind," Alec resolutely warned, yanking his arm from Sam's grasp. But Sam instantly recaptured his arm and tightened his grip.

"We need to go around the field," Sam informed, finally able to get out the instructions he had intended all along.

Registering that Sam was in agreement with him, wasn't there to stop him, relief flooded Alec's eyes. The last thing he wanted was to go up against either of his brothers, even if it was for their own good.

"Best way is behind Union lines," Sam strategized, releasing his grip on Alec and shouldering past his brother to take lead.

"Are they friendlier than their southern counterparts?" Alec quipped, causing Sam to shoot him a smirk over his shoulder.

"Nope. But they aren't looking for enemies behind them."

Offered enough proof to sway his opinion, Alec calmly capitulated, "Well, Ok, then. I've never been a real fan of Yankee Doodle Dandy but my pride can withstand whistling it a time or two to keep us alive."

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Hearing the ominous footfalls of modern military boots on the floorboards of the first floor of the house, Dean knew he couldn't stay where he was, had to decide who to take his chances with: his old enemies or his new ones. Surging to his feet, he ran down the hallway. Even as he maneuvered around the stretchers and the wounded men leaning against the walls he squeezed off a shotgun blast of rocksalt at the Confederate soldier who had fired on him. With a scream of agony, the Confederate disappeared.

Halting in his tracks, Dean pressed himself against the hallway wall, held the shotgun in one hand as he dug his .45 Magnum out of his waistband with the other. Cocking the .45, he waited, knew that something was bound to poke its head out just begging for him to take it off.

He heard the creak on the stairs. For as "physical" as the ghosts in the house seemed, he knew they didn't make a sound as they moved. It left only one answer to who was coming up the stairs: The guys after him who weren't dead. '_Why aren't they tripping all over the walking wounded on the stairs? Why aren't they screaming in terror? I'm used to ghosts and frankly I'm pretty wigged out right now.'_

Raising his gun, he steadied his arm along the wall, waited for a Manticore stormtrooper to pop up the stairs. However a pissed Union officer stalked out of the room closest to the stairs first and raised his old handgun, apparently wanted first divs on him. About ready to switch his weapon of choice to the shotgun, Dean saw the Manticore soldier peek his head above the landing, bringing his own tranquilizer gun into the Mexican standoff. "Crap!" Dean exclaimed then he let loose the shotgun round even as the Magnum recoiled in his hand.

It was so not fair that the living and the dead were ganging up on him.

Retreating backwards, he almost sensed the other presence too late. He turned just in time to blast the Confederate soldier in the face before the soldier's knife found its mark in his back.

And then there was the sound of boots pounding up the stairs.

Ducking a tranq dart, he dove into the room across the hallway, kicked the door shut even as he climbed to his feet, backed up against the exterior wall. "This is so not going the way I planned," he hissed, shotgun and handgun both raised, waiting for what came to get him next.

Again they tag teamed him. Almost simultaneously the door was kicked open by a Manticore thug and a wounded Union soldier pushed himself off the floor and stumbled toward Dean.

Dean fired his handgun at the Manticore soldier but the Union soldier unknowingly stepped right into the bullet's path, and dissipated into a swirling black wind before vanishing. The Manticore soldier was also down for the count, was pulled out of the doorway by his compatriots.

With his back pressed against the wall, Dean maneuvered left, out of the free fire zone of the doorway. His head snapped left as he heard a groan, watched as a Union soldier who had been a corpse a second ago struggled to his feet, fresh blood welling out of his chest, the skin on his face suddenly transparent enough to see bone.

Dean sent him to the four winds with a rocksalt blast. But found that the soldiers lying dead and dying around the room, they were all moving, were coming off their deathbeds.

'_Now even the dead aren't staying dead.'" _Zombie ghosts, really!" he shouted angrily as the ghosts all started coming for him. He left loose a barrage of gunfire.

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There were bodies scattered everywhere Sam and Alec looked, Union and Confederate alike. Though the boom of cannons, crack of rifle fire and moans and screams of men in agony were still heard, it seemed muffled, far away instead of mere couple hundred yards. Sam skirted around a dead horse but stumbled as he tried to avoid stepping on a Union soldier's hand. He almost screamed when a hand grabbed his elbow, steadied him.

Alec, even amid the carnage, couldn't hold back his smile at having scared his big bad ghost hunter brother. "It's just me, scaredy cat."

"You're the cat," Sam peevishly muttered a comeback worthy of Dean. Pulling his elbow from Alec's grip, he began again to purposefully make his way through the woods.

"Oh, good one. Very scathing," Alec taunted but kept his voice low. Swiveling his head to the left, he halted and waited for whatever movement he sensed to reoccur.

"What is it?" Sam asked quietly, having noted Alec's quick stop.

"Don't know…just…thought something was moving."

"Buzzards are the only things moving around here," Sam solemnly said, beginning to move again, tried to not look at the ravaged bodies surrounding him. He knew death up close and personal but this, this was slaughter on a grand scale. Bodies collapsed on one another, enemies and allies both. Severed limbs far flung from their owners. The ground squishing under his foot but blood welling to the surface instead of mud.

Then he heard it, metal clacking against metal. Freezing, his hand shooting out to stop Alec's progress, he strained his ears for further sound, scanned the landscape for the source.

Then a hand wrapped around his ankle.

Alec's shot echoed through the woods.

Raising his eyes from the spot on the ground where the soldier his brother had put a bullet through had been seconds ago, Sam met Alec's gaze, wondered if they were both thinking the same thing. He was about to nonchalantly suggest they pick up the pace when he saw something a few yards over Alec's shoulder: soldiers climbing to their feet. Dead soldiers.

"Run!" Sam shouted, grabbing Alec by the shoulder and propelling him forward, suddenly not caring how many corpses he tramped on. "Whoa!" he yelled as he was suddenly scooped off the ground and his breath whooshed out of him as he was thrown over Alec's shoulder. Then the world flashed by him as his brother went into super sonic speed.

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TBC

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I know the chapter was kinda short but I hope it still had some goodies you enjoyed.

Thanks for reading and for keeping those wonderful reviews coming!

To those in the United States – HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY! May we remember and honor all those who have served in our armed forces.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	28. Author's Note

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

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Chapter 28 – What Matters Most – part 20

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Sorry but I have removed this chapter. While I thought the chapter I wrote was good, other have not. And honestly, at this moment, I don't have the heart to keep it posted. I'm an old softy when it comes to criticism, especially since I have put a lot of work into this story. Thanks to all those who have reviewed and been loyal readers to this story as well as my other tales.


	29. Chapter 28: What Matters Most pt 20

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

Author's Note: First and foremost, thank you to everyone who emailed me and encouraged me to get back on this horse! I couldn't ask for a better group of people to hang out with!

Now I'm going to try and stop being a drama queen this go around. Everyone is allowed to have their opinion and I've asked for opinions so I'm sorry that I responded so poorly to the open forum. After all the manners of evil I bring against Dean and Sam and Alec, surely the least punishment I deserve is some well meaning criticism. Hope you can forgive me my weakness.

Now, for better or worse, is Chapter 28 in its original entirety.

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Chapter 28 – What Matters Most – part 20

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Dean, though he felt a sense of satisfaction watching the attacking undead scatter like grains of sand when he pumped a rocksalt shell into them, he felt no hope for victory. Instead there was the metallic taste in his mouth of pending defeat. He had blasted away the zombie ghosts in the room he stood in…and now more were stalking through the room's two doors. Remarkably, they didn't look happy to see him.

And then there was the empty shotgun in his hands.

Abandoning the idea of keeping the live rounds for his Manticore nemeses, he pulled the .45's trigger, once, twice, three times, was going for number four when one of the zombie undead tackled him. It was a real weight that slammed into his torso and sent him plowing into the wall behind him, sent his shotgun flying from his grip. It was real hands that delivered a blow to his gut, knocking the last of his breath from him, and pinned his gun hand to the wall. And it was a real knife clutched in the hand of the approaching Confederate soldier, who was apparently not too proud to take advantage of his enemy's vulnerable position.

"Don't suppose we can sit down with some rye whiskey and talk about this?" Dean meekly suggested.

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Stumbling to a stop, Alec gave one more paranoid look behind them before he bent over and unloaded Sam from his shoulder. He sank to his knees on the forest floor beside his brother's sprawled form. "Ok, that," he pointed to where they had just come from, "is not normal, even I know that. It's official, I am totally freaked out."

Sitting up, Sam knew he was as shaken as Alec was. "No. So not normal. None of this is."

Giving his older brother an incredulously look, Alec shook his head, "I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse."

"Me either," Sam mumbled, taking in his surroundings which turned out to basically be trees, before he faced his brother again. "Thanks, by the way, for the …" his hand gestured over his shoulder.

"Anytime," Alec offhandedly accepted Sam's gratitude, was made aware again, of the night and day differences between his brothers.

"So are we in the next state over or what?" Sam asked, his sense of direction royally screwed up after hanging upside down over his brother's shoulder while Alec went super sonic.

"East side of the house," Alec supplied, pointing through the woods to the house. "You think Dean's still in there?"

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Grabbing the Confederate's arm, Dean just managed to halt the knife point inches from his face. "Guess that's a no on the drinks," he quipped through clenched teeth before he lashed out with left leg. He wasn't sure if zombie ghosts minded a broken knee cap until the soldier let out a cry of pain and crumbled to the wooden floorboards. Not taking the time to relish his victory, he brought his elbow down into the spine of the soldier who had him pinned to the wall even as he brought his knee up. The zombie moaned in pain at the double assault.

Shoving the incapacitated zombie away, Dean scampered to the left, his back pressed against the wall. The zombies in the room menacingly tracked his progress and then they started lumbering forward. But it was the small tear gas can that the Manticore soldier at the doorway rolled into the room that decided Dean's fate.

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As if in answer to Alec's question, Alec and Sam heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering a second before they saw a figure dive out the house's second story window, roll down the porch roof and free fall to the ground below.

"Dean," Alec and Sam said in unison, both already in motion.

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When he could draw in air again, Dean wheezed, "That hurt," spitting out grass and mud from his mouth. But even as he told himself to get up, get moving, his body down right refused, was too busy radiating pain from his head down to his toes.

"Just stay down," an unwelcome but vaguely familiar voice growled from his left. "Or I swear, I'll put a bullet in your heart and Boris will just have to throw your brains in a bowl to complete his experiment."

Turning his head to the left, Dean looked up at the brawny Manticore soldier he had tangled with at the gas station standing over him, saw the man's gun unwaveringly aimed at his back. "I'm getting the feeling that you're holding a grudge?" eyes pointedly traveling toward the man's bruised face and red puffy eyes.

"That would be unprofessional of me," the soldier mockingly drawled even as he cocked his gun.

Frantically wondering how to escape a bullet in the back, Dean didn't immediately understand the soldier's stunned expression, not until he saw the dark liquid coursing from just under the soldier's neck. As he watched, the man raised a trembling hand to his neck to try and stop the flow from the bullet wound, his inhale of breath a gargled gasp. Then the man bonelessly toppled to the ground, his dead eyes ending up on the same level as Dean's.

A hand landed on Dean's back, causing the older hunter to roll left and snap his head to the right. Letting his head sink down onto the ground again, he breathed out, "Sammy," in obvious relief at the sight of his brother crouched by his side.

"Don't know if you know this or not, but they did put doors in their homes in the 18th century, Dean," Alec caustically reprimanded from Dean's other side as he latched onto Dean's arm, helped Sam get their brother on his feet.

Sandwiched between his two brothers, Dean shot a smirk to Alec. "I've heard of doors," he drawled as he, with his two brother's help, ran to the right of the house. Once they were in the minimal cover of the woods, the threesome stopped, crouched down and viewed the raging battle around them.

"You alright?" Sam asked, studying his brother's profile, watched as Dean's wide eyes tracked the charge the Confederates were making. "Hey," he demanded, shaking the piece of Dean's shirt that he had fisted in his grip and finally earning Dean's eye contact. "Are you hurt?"

"Maybe you missed it, but I just fell off a two story roof, Sam," Dean cynically recapped, saw worry heighten in Sam's eyes instead of the frustration he was looking for. "I _hurt_…but I'm not hurt," he spelled out, was rewarded with a relieved nod from Sam, and his brother's frantic fingers released their possessive grip on his shirt.

Turning to Dean, Alec lowly hissed, "Tell me again, how this was the best, the **safest** plan you could come up with."

"Hey, the lore didn't mention it was gonna be freakin' re-enactment city out here," Dean lowly railed back, hand waving to the battle they were witnessing. "And we can see the ghosts, why can't Manticore's goons?"

"Perception," Sam supplied, earned glares from both of his brothers for answering the rhetorical and inconsequential question before Dean and Alec again locked horns.

"So now we get out of here and do things my way," Alec stringently stated, beginning to turn around, his intention to lead his brothers out of harm's way. But Dean's hand grabbed his bicep, halted his motion.

"Manticore is right where we want them," Dean pointed out, knew that, if Lydecker was right and Boris had only a limited source of manpower, this was still their best chance to diminish those numbers.

"No, **you** are right where Manticore wants you!" Alec shouted back, left '_And I'll die before I let them get their hands on you again_' unspoken.

"We can't keep running, Alec," Dean bluntly announced, his eyes piercing Alec's. "We're not going to make it if we do."

Sam joined the fray. "Running is all we got because this, here, isn't working, Dean."

Dean turned from his brothers, watched the men in grey and blue uniforms as they fought for their lives in the fields in front of them. Knew every man there was fighting for a cause, for a belief, were willing to die and kill for freedom, freedom to choose the way they would live their lives. But there would be a loser, there always was. And the cost of that defeat, here on this small piece of land, would be twenty five thousand lives.

'_But not Sam and Alec's lives. Not for me_.' Dean suddenly vowed, was about to tell his brothers his decision when he saw four Manticore soldiers stalk from the house and stride right through two Union soldiers without even knowing it. Quickly turning around to face his brothers, he quietly groused, "Ah screw it. It's not the first time we've run away to fight another day." Keeping low to the ground, he passed between his two brothers, muttered, "And it won't be the last. And by the way, four Manticorean thugs just barreled out of the house and are coming our way."

Exchanging relieved looks at Dean's capitulation to their wishes to get out of Dodge, Alec and Sam began to follow in Dean's footsteps through the wooded area. Alec strained his hearing to pick up sounds of their pursuers but with the rifle fire and the boom of the cannons and the resulting explosions, he couldn't decipher what noise was near and what was farther away.

At first, when he saw the smoke wafting through the trees ahead, Dean stopped down into a crouch, thought the Manticore troops had lobbed a tear gas canister into the woods. Until the wind changed and he inhaled the unmistakable smell of fire …and burning flesh. Looking to his right, he searched a moment until he saw the source of the smoke. Orange and red flames of fire was creeping along the underbrush and up tree trunks and over any soldier unfortunate enough to be consigned to the ground, either by wounds or in death.

"Fire," Dean warned, pointed out the flames to Sam and Alec, who were now flanking him. "We have to get ahead of it or it will cut off our escape." Sharing looks of concord with his brothers, Dean surged to his feet, began to run, knew that Sam and Alec were pacing him.

Their tight-knit wall of Winchesters was only broken when a tree dared to separate them. But instantly after passing such a hurdle, they closed in their ranks again. They were actually making good progress until Alec shouted "Incoming! Down!"

Sam was instinctively dropping to his knees when he heard the boom, felt the invisible wave of heat shove him, chest first, into the trunk of the nearest tree. Limply dropping to the forest floor on his back, he frantically tried to draw in breath, felt panic clawing in his chest as silence blanketed him. He couldn't hear anything, not the gunfire, not the cannon fire, not his own heartbeat and nothing from his brothers. He lay there, void of breath, stunned, unmoving, watched as something pink fluttered in the air, drifted down to land on his chest: petals, pink petals. And then more followed, like a light snow, blowing across the carnage, dropping on the leaves of the trees overhead, on his arm, on his face. Peach tree blossoms.

'_Something pure in the midst of all this evil_,' Sam thought, found that bit of purity gave him the composure to take in a breath, to breathe…and move. To roll over and see Dean beside him, moving, thank God. And he was starting to hear again, the sounds of battle and Dean's panicked voice.

"Alec?" Dean called out, quickly crawling to his little brother's side, praying that the scream he heard hadn't been his brother's. "No," he choked out as he drew closer to Alec, saw the blood, read the agony on Alec's features. "Hey, it's alright, just a scratch," he soothed as he gently lifted Alec's head and shoulders onto his knees.

"Liar," Alec choked out, knew enough about wounds to know when one was serious.

Then Sam was there, kneeling by his leg and Alec saw the worried look in his brother's eyes as they sought out Dean's. Because his brothers, they were no slouches when it came to determining the seriousness of wounds either.

Slipping off his jacket and button down shirt, Sam quickly ripped his shirt into strips, began to tie them around the four bloody tears in his brother's left leg where the cannon's iron balls had imbedded in his brother's flesh. He winced as Alec cried out in pain as he pulled each one tight.

Having slid his hand in Alec's, Dean gritted his teeth, not in physical pain when Alec's strong grip tightened as his brother's agony spiked but in sympathetic agony. No one was supposed to get hurt. Alec wasn't supposed to get hurt. '_Especially not trying to save my butt._' Alec was there in the middle of a friggin' civil war battle because of him, Alec was _hurt_ instead of him because his bullheaded, stronger little brother shoved him down between two trees, made sure he had cover even as he left himself open to the lethal rain of shrapnel.

"Easy, easy," Dean gently soothed, ran his hand lightly through Alec's hair as his brother's body stiffened at Sam's ministrations. "It's nothing worse than some buckshot. You with some whiskey and me with a sharp knife to dig it out and you'll be good as new."

When Sam removed his ruthless but albeit well-meaning hands from his leg, Alec wheezed out, "Define, new?" as he let his head collapse back against Dean's knees and his eyes closed. But his eyes snapped open when it wasn't Dean's voice that spoke next.

"Well, well. I didn't expect this to be so easy," came Boris' accented drawl from directly behind Dean.

Dean's head snapped up at the man's voice, but he didn't look back to Boris, instead his eyes found Sam's, anchored to the source of so much of his strength.

"So you got my invitation?" Dean calmly greeted as he looked down at Alec, was met with the same sparkling resolve that blazed in Sam's eyes. It wasn't the first time their backs were against the wall, that dying seemed a likely outcome. And like all those times, they weren't going to go down without a fight.

"You should be honored. Field work is not my forte but I have much invested in you. Now come, on your feet."

"And my brothers?" Dean quietly asked, knew the answer already.

"Though I have no use for them, sadly, I can not let them go," Boris even attempted to put some remorse in his tone.

"Well, Boris, I have a problem with that," Dean calmly objected as he looked over his shoulder to defiantly meet Boris' gaze. "You want me to come along nice and easy, you let my brothers go, both of them," hoped the man didn't realize that he had no bargaining chip, wouldn't risk his brothers in a scuffle here when Alec was hurt and they were sorely outnumbered with Boris and his six man entourage.

Boris had the audacity to laugh at the empty threat. "Dean, even when you are beat you can not admit it. It is no wonder 494 is still alive, had the skill to excel under Manticore's tutelage, had the tenacity to survive unbeatable odds. Lydecker chose well when he picked you…and so have I." Then Boris moved to one of the soldiers at his side and drew the man's firearm, wanted, no needed to do this personally. Wanted, by his own hand, to hurt Dean in the worst way he could. Cocking the gun, he aimed it at Dean's true brother.

Dean tensed, was about to beg Boris for mercy, mercy the man didn't possess when Alec inconspicuously slid his hand from his, replaced it with something the size of his fist. Dean curled his fingers around the object. He heard the small click when Alec pulled the pin out of the hand grenade, hoped no one else did.

"Sorry, but I promised my brothers that we would all leave here together…or not at all," Dean slowly announced, as he raised his hand, let Boris and his men see the armed grenade he held. Meeting Alec's eyes, he gave a tight, sorrowful smile before he used his free hand to gently move Alec's head to the ground. Standing up, he faced Boris, was ready to play his final card. "So how badly do you want to be scientist of the year?" Dean growled, stepped closer to Boris, causing the older man to retreat a step and his soldiers to tighten their grip on their guns. "It worth losing a few limbs?"

"You wouldn't kill your own brothers, I know that much about you," Boris shouted back, but his eyes were darting nervously to Sam, to Alec on the ground, hoping one of Dean's brothers would rein Dean in.

"You should be proud of yourself, Boris. You taught me that some fates are worse than death. If my brothers are going to die, they are going to die with me, my way," Dean snarled, felt his stomach plummet even as he said the words. He couldn't kill Sam, couldn't kill Alec, could never kill his own brothers. But, if his own _father_ thought he could, was capable of such heartlessness, he knew he had a chance of making Boris believe that too.

"Helms," Boris barked, tried to not let his fear show, wanted his personal bodyguard to do _something_.

Eyes not leaving Dean Winchester's, Dick Helms took the measure of the man in his gun sights and slowly lowered his .45. "He's not bluffing, sir. He'll do it."

"If we let you walk away today, we'll just find you again," Boris offered up his own threat. "You can't outrun us. I think you know that." Seeing a slight break in Dean's confidence, Boris countered, "I accept your first offer. I'll let your brothers both go if you come with me."

Before Dean could fully process the pros and cons of Boris' offer, Sam shouted "No!" behind him and Dean felt a hand wrap around his ankle, knew it was Alec submitting his own silent protest to the deal on the table. But his eyes held Boris, needed to know if the man was capable of keeping his word. And suddenly he knew he had to give credit where credit was due. Whatever else he had to say about the crossroads deal maker, she had kept her word…every single bit of it. But did Boris have that much integrity?

And Dean didn't know if he could do it all over again to his brothers, willingly chose to leave them in order to save them. He didn't know if he had the strength to disregard their wishes, to hurt them, to _destroy_ them, even if it was to spare their lives.

Suddenly a hand clamped around his hand that held the grenade, but it wasn't one of Boris' men's. It was Sam's.

"Together, Dean!" Sam reminded Dean harshly, squeezing his hand painfully around his brother's, desperate to get through to Dean, to not let the same sick play turn out the same way it had last time. "You, me and Alec, remember! That's how this ends. , Dean. No exceptions." But Sam saw indecision warring on his big brother's features. "You want to do what's best for me, for Alec, then don't leave us. It's as simple as that."

"My options aren't great here, Sammy," Dean whispered back, eyes trained on Boris, on the soldiers that were getting itchy fingers.

"They never are," Sam returned, a trace of light mirth in his tone. "Never stopped you before from finding a way to keep us together."

And that got Dean sneaking a quick glance to Sam, found that part of him wanted to laugh and another part of him wanted to smack the smirk off Sam's face. Dropping his eyes to meet Alec's pained gaze, he received the same message Sam was sending him, loud and clear. They were in this together, to the end.

Turning his focus back to Boris, Dean shrugged and fluidly pulled out his .45 and aimed it at the scientist's head. "We took a family vote and I gotta say nah to your deal."

"You're just making this worse on yourself," Boris angrily shot back.

Sam pulled his own gun, stepped up to the nearest soldier and pressed the barrel against his chest. "How good do you think your bullet proof vest works at point blank range? I'm willing to test it out, are you?" In response, the soldier dropped his gun to the ground and raised his hands in defeat.

Alec couldn't help but smirk. His brothers, they were some tough customers.

"We'll be going now," Dean announced and then he stepped backwards, latched onto Sam's shirt and drew his brother back with him. "But I'm sure you'll send men and I'll send them back to you …in body bags."

Putting his gun in his waist, Sam bent over Alec. "Turn around is fair play," he taunted before he hauled Alec over his shoulder and stood up, grimaced at Alec's moan of pain as he shifted his little brother's weight a little. Then he started to walk, right through the small path Boris and his men made for him, knew they were parting more for Dean, who trailed behind him, and Dean's grenade than for him but that was just a nit picky detail.

"This really gonna work," he mumbled lowly as he kept walking straight ahead, Dean's shoulder blades practically bumping his as his brother walked backwards, kept his eyes trained on Boris and his men.

"So far, so good," Dean murmured out of the side of his mouth, giving a wink to Boris but keeping his gun sight aimed at the sadistic scientist. But a second later, Dean body slammed into Sam, growled, "Don't stop Sam!"

"Ah, kinda have to, Dean," Sam replied, a worried tinge to his tone that had Dean chancing a look over his shoulder. His mouth went dry at what had brought Sam up short.

About twenty Union soldiers stood in their way, rifles primed and ready and locked on the three Winchesters with merciless intent.

"Great. You got the pin for this thing? Cause it's not going do us any good with them," Dean grumbled as he waved his hand that held the grenade. Because, for one thing, the soldiers were too close to their position to lob the grenade at them and secondly, threatening to blow up these soldiers with some small ball thingy he held in his hand, it would beyond futile. If there was one thing he knew it was that, yeah, sometimes people were afraid of what they didn't know, but most of the time, people were just too naïve to be afraid of what they could never fathom even existed. And for these soldiers, an explosive you could hold in your hand that didn't have a fuse and didn't need a flame to ignite, was pure make believe. In their time frame, TNT wouldn't even be invented for another forty years.

Alec, even though he was hanging upside down over Sam's shoulder, was still as proficient a soldier as ever. Digging the grenade pin out of his pocket, he held it out to Dean and managed to meet his brother's eyes. "If I don't get a chance to tell you later, this plan sucked from beginning to end."

"Yeah, got that memo already," Dean grumbled as he slid the pin in the grenade, shoved the explosive in his pocket for a rainy day and raised his hands in surrender. "Out of the friggin' frying pan into the fire."

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TBC

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Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	30. Chapter 29: What Matters Most pt 21

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

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Chapter 29 – What Matters Most – part 21

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Looking for the weak link in the Union soldiers holding him and his brothers at gunpoint, Dean quickly determined that finding such a thing in these men was about as likely as getting mercy from a hellhound. Though these soldiers hadn't adopted the motto of the wounded ones back in the house, 'kill first, talk never', there was still a feral lethalness in their eyes. They were fighting every moment to stay alive…well had been fighting to stay alive. About one hundred and fifty years ago.

Suddenly, the soldiers parted to let one man pass through their lines. And Dean didn't need to see the blue sergeant's rank insignia on the man's uniform to know that he was in charge, that he had earned the respect and garnered the fear of his men. Dean tensed as the sergeant halted a few inches away from him, as the soldier's hard, assessing brown eyes bore into his.

Then the man did what none in the haunted house had done. He spoke.

"I'm not sure if I should brand you for cowards or arrest you for being spies," the sergeant rasped, his voice painfully raw. Absently, Sam wondered if the cause was smoke inhalation, thirst or a hundred years of disuse because, thinking about that, it was way better than determining why the commander thought they had to die.

Dean didn't need to exchange a look with Sam to feel his brother's tension pooling with his own. Surrounded by twenty gun toting ghosts, Alec hurt and balanced over Sam's shoulder and Sam having only one hand free, they were about as vulnerable as they could get.

Knowing from past experience that a backed-in-a-corner Dean meant a reckless Dean, Sam reached out, wrapped his fingers around Dean's wrist, silently begged Dean to play it cool, to be compliant for once in his life. But when a smirk emerged on his brother's features, he nearly sighed in frustration, chose instead to curse silently. '_So much for being compliant_.'

"I was thinking about adding some more body art so I'll go with the branding," Dean cockily selected, unflinchingly meeting the sergeant's poisoned glare.

No reaction flickered in the sergeant's features but he shouted, "Search them!" his breath hitting Dean in the face.

Stiffening, hoping to not let anything show in his face, Dean braced himself to be divested of his weapons. He remained immobile as rough hands grabbed him, turned out his pockets, confiscated his gun and naively discarded his grenade onto the ground. He didn't offer up one objection to the violent manhandling, though the truth was, he had gotten a gentler pat down in prison.

But Alec's cry of pain he couldn't ignore. Shoving away the hands that invaded his personal space, Dean turned to see a soldier cruelly clamping a hand around Alec's bloody leg. Grabbing a fist full of the back of the soldier's uniform, he yanked him away from Alec, removed the ghost's cruel searching hands from his brother's wounded body. Placing himself at Alec's side, subsequently at Sam's, he defiantly stood his ground, leveled a deadly dare to the soldiers to just _try_ and get through him to get to his brothers. "We're not spies!" he shouted, eyes lancing into the sergeant's, was about to play the coward card when the soldier that had frisked him spoke.

"Sir, I think you should see this," the soldier interrupted, holding out a folded piece of paper.

'_See what_?' Alec wanted to scream, felt like he was some kid that wasn't allowed to be part of the adult conversation. He felt blind, useless, a piece of Sam's attire that his brother had draped over his shoulder like a fashion statement. But as much as he wanted to rail at not knowing what the heck was going on, he knew that he couldn't help, was a burden right then. And he couldn't chance becoming more of one by demanding to be read in.

No, Alec knew that he had to let his brothers handle matters. But the truth was, he had become used to the idea of _him_ protecting _them_, of _them_ needing _him_. Had begun to think his transgenic mojo would always help them to beat the odds, that what made him difference, it was worth something. '_Then a nice cannon dropped into my life_. _And now we're a heartbeat away from facing a firing squad_.' His brothers were about to _die_ and he knew that, this time, he was too weak to stop it. That, even soulless killing machines like him, they had their limitations…and maybe so did the famous Winchester ability to defy death.

Striking a match, the soldier held the flame above the document his commander was unfolding.

Uncertain what he had had on him that was so fascinating, Dean leaned closer as the sergeant opened the paper up, was almost as curious as the rest of the troop to see what it was. Before he could get a good look, the sergeant's eyes came up to meet his, an unholy fire blazing in them.

"Not a spy? Then why do you have a sketch of our battle plans, know the location of our troops and the Rebel's," the sergeant menacingly accused, holding out the incriminating evidence toward the spies.

Sam fought back a groan of dread. He knew what the sergeant had in his hand: the Shiloh National Military Park pamphlet he had made Dean carry. A pamphlet that had an authentic looking sketch of the battle with nice clear markings of union and confederate troop movements. Blushing at the reproachful glance Dean shot to him, he scoffed, "Like I could have known this was going to happen!"

Unable to endure the suspense a second longer, Alec, from his upside down position, tried to maneuver around enough to see what all the fuss was about. "What? What is it? What do we have?"

It was Dean that answered, his voice dripping with condescension even as his eyes held the sergeant's, "Oh, that helpful pamphlet Sam picked up from the park visiting center, insisted I bring along. You know, the one with the nice _maps_, so we wouldn't get lost."

"Oooohhhh.. Ok," Alec drawled, immediately knew why things had gone from tense to super nova in two seconds flat. Not one to let his inner fear bubble to the surface, especially in the presence of people who wanted to kill him, he joked, "Don't suppose the time traveling shtick would work on them, that we're from the future…one _possible_ future."

"Don't quote Terminator to me right now. Things did not turn out so great for Reese," Dean mumbled under his breath.

"Arnie movie yeah, but in the Bale movie…." Alec began to defend.

"Shut up!" the sergeant shouted, cutting off the chatter among his detainees. Recognizing which man was in charge of the threesome, he nodded his head toward Dean. Instantly two of his soldiers obeyed his command, grabbed the mouthy prisoner and brought Dean to a halt in front of him.

"You know what we do with spies?" The sergeant lowly asked of his prisoner, saw not cowardice but defiance spark in the man's eyes.

"Yeah, I saw 'The Patriot'," Dean deadpanned, not giving the other man the satisfaction of showing his fear, for himself or for his brothers.

Watching as the Sergeant reached for his sidearm, ready and seemingly willing to execute Dean on the spot, Sam demanded, "Wait! Just…wait a minute!" Torn between stepping forward to protect Dean and keeping back in order to protect Alec, he remained still, used his words, the earnestness Dean accused him of unleashing on him way too often when he wanted his brother to obey him. "We're **not** spies."

The officer's sharp eyes settled on him. "Really. Then what are you?"

"Historians," Sam announced, was actually proud of himself for coming up with it out of the blue. "We're writing down what we've seen today. So others will know what happened here, what was sacrificed."

"And you were carrying weapons because…." The officer inquired, an eyebrow raised waiting for the spy's lie.

Alec held his breath, wondered how far Sam's charm would get them. But in that beat of silence, a sound carried on the slight breeze, reached his gifted hearing.

Sam calmly explained to the Union officer, "We're not taking sides. But we didn't want to die here, had to be able to defend ourselves." Sam didn't dare look to Dean, knew that his brother was probably rolling his eyes at his cock and bull story. Calm heads had to prevail now and sometimes, Dean's idea of diplomacy? It was to say sorry after he knocked someone unconscious.

The officer seemed to be contemplating Sam's story when Alec spoke quietly in the silence, had to alert his bothers to what he had heard: voices, voices of living, breathing men.

"I don't mean to be more of a kill joy but Boris, he's getting awfully curious why we're standing here," Alec tried to keep the tension from his tone, knew that there was enough to go around without adding his own. But, using Sam's back as a point of stability, he had levered himself up far enough to find the source of the voices, to determine that it was some of Boris' men. And then he saw Boris. With his heightened vision, he could detect the man's creased features. It didn't take much deductive reasoning to know they were two seconds away from having another Boris reunion, of being sandwiched between their present day enemies and their civil war antagonists.

Dean chanced a look over his shoulder, could see Boris and some of his men standing in the forest a few hundred yards back, right where they had left them. Alec was right, Boris was too much of a scientist to let a mystery go unsolved. Soon he would come for them, would brave danger for knowledge. Turning back to the man currently holding his life and the lives of his brothers in his hands, he collaborated Sam's story. "Come on. What good is a victory if no one knows you won? If a tree falls in the forest…."

"Dean," Sam warned, didn't want Dean going off on a tangent when he had been doing so well.

"Yeah, ok. You get the picture. We're no threat to you, you took our weapons, you confiscated our maps, just let us…"

But Dean didn't get a change to finish his entreaty, the words caught in his throat as a knife blade pressed against his throat, making even swallowing a near suicidal gesture.

Leaning in close to his prisoner, the sergeant hissed, "You must think I'm a fool."

Sam immediately refuted, "No sir," his hand itching to push the knife away from Dean's neck.

Shooting Sam a grim smile, the sergeant said, "But you were hoping, right?" Sam's jaw clenched at the man's perception. Facing Dean again, he achingly snarled, "I've been fighting a long time…"

And the soldier's breath, it was suddenly ice cold, brushed over Dean like a reaper over a grave. Dean fought down a shiver, watched as patches of flesh on the sergeant's face began to turn black before blowing away like coal dust, leaving bone gleaming where flesh once was. "Ok, that's just nasty," Dean muttered, recoiling back a step, not caring that the knife scraped under his chin at the motion. Taking in the sight of the other soldiers, he saw that their flesh was faring no better than their leader's, that their uniforms were suddenly tattered, were pieces of ancient cloth blowing in the minimal breeze.

Not seeing the transformation that Dean and Sam were privy to but watching as Boris and five of his men began heading toward them, Alec tried to placate their current foes, "Ok, ya got us. We're Johnny Rebs. So take us to Andersonville already."

Taking a step back from their now hideous captors, Sam absently corrected Alec, "Andersonville was a confederate prison camp. They would probably take us to Alton prison along the Mississippi river."

Even as he retreated from the gruesome ghost army, Dean shot Sam an incredulous look, "You really think now's the time for a friggin' history lesson."

Sam only shrugged, didn't seem like they would have time for anything soon.

Tilting his head up, Alec watched Boris' approach. "Guys, we're about to _be_ history."

Detecting the rising panic in Alec's tone, Dean shot another look over his shoulder, found that Alec had every right to be pessimistic. Boris would reach them in a few minutes.

Meeting Sam's eyes, Dean was surprised to see trust in their depths. They were down to double or nothing, live or die and Sam was there naively trusting him to get them out of there. And maybe that was the best weapon he had, the only strength he would ever need, not that he believed in himself but that Sam did, that Alec did.

Determined to not betray his brother's faith in him, Dean focused on the specters of the Union army. "I've really enjoyed this role playing thing we had going here," he said as he took a step toward the sergeant, and more importantly toward the discarded grenade on the forest floor. "I'ld say let's do it again but …" Dean smiled. "I'm not that good of a liar."

Sam tightened his grip on Alec's legs, was gearing up to react as soon as Dean made his reckless move. When Dean scooped up the grenade like it was a ground ball, Sam was already in motion, was ducking and dodging to the left, hoping to make it as far into the trees as he could before Dean lobbed the grenade at whoever he decided to lob it at.

Deftly pulling the grenade pin, Dean treated the bomb like a soft ball, arched it through the air even as he followed Sam's lead into the forest. He hoped that if the soldiers decided to shoot, it would be him they hit instead of his brothers. Hoped too that the grenade went off in Boris' face.

The small explosion stirred up a whirl wind of dirt as it shook the ground, startled both modern and old soldiers alike. Cries of surprise and anger and pain echoed in the air, disembodied voices called out in the low visibility. And then the air cleared and the Winchesters were no longer in sight. All that remained were two armies, standing face to face, fully aware of the other for the first time.

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Dodging between trees, lagging only a few feet behind his brothers, Dean kept Sam in sight even as he turned around, expected to see someone pursuing them, knew that the two groups that wanted them dead wouldn't give up so easily. However, there was no proof that anyone was coming after them. But that didn't mean that, the very next second, when automatic gunfire ripped through the air, too close for comfort, he didn't slide to a halt and duck. That Sam didn't do the exact same thing, almost toppling Alec off his perch on his shoulder in the process.

But when no bullets peppered their surroundings, Dean raised his head, looked back the way they had come. Those were modern guns being fired and if they weren't being fired at them….Turning, he gave Sam a wide eyed questioning look.

"Yeah, like I know what's going on," Sam replied, re-securing his hold on Alec before standing up, resuming his determined trek to get his brother to safety.

Dean hesitated, stood there, indecisively. Sometimes the best defense was knowledge, was knowing what was coming for you…or why it wasn't coming for you.

Panting hard in exertion, Sam slowed his pace. Alec might be thin but he was all muscle.

Detecting the trembling fatigue in his brother's frame, Alec patted Sam's back, ordered, "Put me down Sam. I can walk with a little help."

But Sam shook his head, stubbornly refused, "No," even though that one word came out breathless. Beginning to swing around, needing to get a location on Dean to settle his sudden unease, he startled as Dean spoke right by his ear.

"I'll take my turn," Dean said, rather enjoyed that he had startled his brothers with his sudden close presence.

"Where were you?" Sam accused, knew that Dean had contemplated doing something he wouldn't like when his brother avoided meeting his eyes.

"A bar, Sam," Dean snapped, dodging Sam's reprimanding gaze to reach for Alec.

Stepping back from Dean, effectively putting Alec out of the radius of Dean's reach, Sam angrily pressed, "You thought about going back after Boris, having some stupid macho showdown with him."

With a scoffing lilt, Dean denied, "No, I didn't."

His eyes blazing into Dean's, Sam bit out, "Yeah, yeah, you did. Dean…."  
Alec's voice broke into their banter. "I know I'm just the guy _hanging around_ but I really vote we keep moving. Escape and evade, it was my _very_ favorite Manticore game."

Giving Dean a look that mirrored a grandmother's irksome look at her much loved but highly misbehaving grandchild, Sam sighed but relented, "Yeah, you're right. We gotta keep moving." But when he went to put actions to words, Dean's snagged his arm.

"My turn remember," Dean said, nodding toward Alec.

"I can carry him," Sam doggedly insisted, needed Alec to know that, while he might not be a super soldier, he wouldn't ever let him down when he needed him.

"Yeah, no duh," Dean snarked at his brother's statement of the obvious. "But you can't do it forever so hand the kid over. "

"Ya just fall off the roof of a two story house, Dean. Remember that!" Sam shot back, couldn't believe Dean was again playing the 'nothing hurts me' card.

"It wasn't the house roof…" When Alec gave him an upside glare and Sam matched it, Dean amended, "it was a _porch_ roof." Knowing that he needed something more substantial to sway Sam, he sourly admitted, "Without my handy dandy visitor's guide, I'm not sure which way to head to get out of here so I need you to be point man."

Between Sam's tense posture and Dean's clenched jaw, Alec knew a resolution wasn't coming soon. Pushing up until his torso was level with Sam's shoulder, he looked from Sam's set profile to Dean's and lightly offered, "Ok, you know what? All this is pointless because I can _walk_, alright. Just pick out a walking stick for me. I wouldn't even make you carve it into an awesome viper head or anything. Just a stick, that's all I need and we'll be…."  
But Dean's unyielding look cut off Alec's words. "You're not putting any pressure on that leg, Alec." Because Dean didn't care that Alec thought he was some indestructible weapon. He wasn't. He was hurt, was vulnerable, was his brother. And he wasn't going to let anything happen to him. '_You mean anything more_,' he scathingly thought, guilt flaring again that Alec was hurt, had gotten hurt because of his buckets of crazy plan.

"Pressure, who said anything about putting pressure on it," Alec backpedeled with a light laugh.

Dean opened his mouth to make a reply but promptly fell silent, stilled.

An instant before, Alec head snapped left. Quietly he announced what Dean was sensing. "Someone's coming. Behind us."

Wordlessly jerking his chin to the right, Dean ordered Sam to head that direction, to take Alec and hide. They weren't going to be able to outrun anyone and they didn't have any weapons. Course that didn't mean Dean Winchester was harmless.

Bestowing Dean with a silent '_be careful'_, Sam stole deeper into the woods. Carefully easing Alec off his shoulder, he gently settled his wounded little brother against a tree, winced when Alec's breath caught in a choked back moan of pain. Kneeling by Alec, Sam lightly skimmed his hand helplessly over the makeshift bandages, felt his heart trip in his chest at the blood seeping through the fabric. Raising his eyes to Alec, he knew that Alec understood his unvoiced question when his brother nodded.

'_I'm alright_,' Alec conveyed to his brother before he shifted his attention behind Sam, toward the direction Dean had headed.

Moving to Alec's right side and facing the same direction as his brother, Sam strained his all too human ears to hear what Alec could, prayed that he would know if Dean needed his help. But then again, to help Dean he would need to leave Alec and with Alec so vulnerable….Crap, if he never had to play the 'pick the brother you can't bear to lose' game again it would be too soon.

And then close gunfire vibrated through the air.

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Crouching in the thicket, Dean steadied his breathing, waited for the threat to get within range. He tensed as gunfire was traded, one shot from a modern weapon, and the other from a civil war era rifle. He could hear someone coming through the woods, drawing closer to his position, heard the snap of branches being broken and the harsh breathing of someone running.

Grabbing a branch from the ground, Dean gripped onto it tightly and waited, his muscles coiled for action. But whoever he expected to come into sight, it wasn't Boris.

Cold rage settled in Dean's gut. The man wasn't going to get away, not after all he had done, not when he still posed a threat to his brothers. On the brink of leaping from his position, prepared to stake the man through the heart to get the job done, Dean barely halted his motion in time.

From only a few yards away, Dean watched as a Union soldier approached Boris at a run. The soldier sank his bayonet in Boris' back before the scientist could turn around, even sensed the threat. Though the soldiers of the blue and the grey no longer bled on Shiloh's consecrated ground, there was red dripping off the bayonet. Boris' blood.

It scared Dean, the pleasure that hummed through him at the sight of Boris' blood. The sick _enjoyment_ he felt when Boris crumbled to his knees.

His work done, the Union soldier turned his back on his enemy, and trotted back up the trail, was eager to rejoin his squad. Dean waited patiently in the thicket until the soldier was out of sight, until Boris fell to the ground on his side, gasping for breath.

Standing, Dean stepped out of the coverage of the forest, walked to the dying man, reveled in Boris' surprised, wide eyed gaze at his approach. Crouching by the man who had enjoyed torturing him, who had done his best to kill his brothers, Dean watched as the mortally wounded man weakly tried to crawl away from him. He felt a surge of dark satisfaction that, even as death was stealing over him, Boris still feared him more.

'_And he should_,' Dean savagely acknowledged even as he stopped Boris crawling retreat by clamping a manacle hand down on the man's ankle.

Terror filled eyes met Dean's and when Boris spoke, his voice was pained and thick and blood splattered on his lips. "What have you done? What did you do to those ..men?"

Dean smiled callously. "What, you don't like them?" he asked, his voice void of warmth, almost of humanity. "They are your life's work in living color. Are _exactly_ what you wanted to create. A monster army. A thousand men who would kill on command."

But Boris shook his head, choked on more blood as he protested, "No, they weren't…real. Were…"

"A hallucination?" Dean darkly offered, because if anyone knew about hallucinations it was him. Mercilessly, he dug his fingers into the knife wound on Boris' back, relished in the man's scream of agony, arched back trying to escape the pain. Leaning closer, Dean taunted, "That feels real, doesn't it," before he withdrew his touch, absently wiped his bloody fingers onto Boris' shoulder.

"I told you I knew about monsters…you should have believed me," Dean almost conversationally said with a light tone of reprimand but there was no luminosity in his eyes as they met Boris'.

"Save …me," Boris pleaded, one hand latching onto Dean's wrist, eyes imploring Dean to be merciful.

But Dean's tightlipped smile when it came, was menacing in its coldness. "I don't save monsters, Boris." Then he peeled Boris' fingers from his flesh and pinned the man's arm to the ground. "By next month, Manitcore won't even remember your name. All your research, it'll go in the trash, will be written off as a mad scientist's folly. It'll be like you never existed at all. You'll be just another failed experiment that Manticore incinerated and scattered the ashes."

"No, my work… made a difference," Boris breathlessly protested, the thought that his work would die with him unacceptable.

"Really?" Dean barked out a dangerous laugh. "Then where is your transgenic army to obey your every command? Where is your faithful 492? Even your human soldiers that are paid to protect you, to protect your dream, where are they?" Then Dean stood up, towered over the dying scientist.

"The transgenics …they will never be human…." Boris wheezed, cold, fading eyes looking up to Dean.

"If Alec is any indication, you're right. They will be _better_ than most humans I know. And you want to know what else, even the worst screwed up of them all….has more humanity than you do."

Eyes slipping closed, Boris bit out, "I was…creating the …future."

"To quote my brother, 'One _possible_ future.' One that's never gonna happen. It's dying with you."

Coughing up blood, Boris could not speak, could not protest Dean's words, could just clutch onto the ground under his hand, fight to not die, to not let his dream die. He didn't even register the other man's departure, didn't sense the approach of two sets of boots, could hear their voices though, hoarse and floating over him like an ice storm. "Sergeant wants us to collect all the weapons from the bodies before the fire comes this way."

A kick rolled Boris onto his back but he couldn't open his eyes, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything other than choke on his own blood.

"No weapons. Guy's still breathing…"

"Doesn't matter. Fire's coming this way fast. It'll put him out of his misery…nice and slow."

And then even those unwelcome companions were gone and Boris was left alone. Alone inhaling smoke, sensing the approaching heat and knowing that, even his DNA would not remain behind, that there would be nothing left of him to even pass on.

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Tucking Boris' gun in his waistband, Dean didn't turn around when Boris screamed, knew that either the soldiers were finishing him off or the fast approaching fire was. And he didn't care which. What he cared about was ahead, was his brothers.

Sam jumped to his feet at the first glimpse of Dean, his nerves a jumble since the first gunshot, not eased one bit by the scream of a minute ago. "You OK?" he hoarsely asked, knew his eyes conveyed the torture it had been waiting for his brother's return, dreading the worst, his emotions tangling with Alec's.

"Fine," Dean brusquely answered, giving Sam a hit and run glance before he bent down by Alec's side. "We gotta go," he announced, even as he pulled Alec over his shoulder without permission.

"More of a warning woulda been nice," Alec grumbled as his ribs suddenly protested their position draped over Dean's sharp boned shoulder.

Eyes meeting Sam's with urgency, Dean supplied, "Fire's sweeping through the trees like it's Chicago. Lead us out of here, Sam."

Giving a worried but curt nod, Sam took point but he spared a glance back at Dean when his brother spoke a moment later.

"Boris isn't going to be coming after us anymore."

Reading Sam's question, the same question his brother had asked him about Bela, Dean reveled, "The Union soldiers apparently liked him as much as I did. Bayoneted him and then left him to roast."

"Did you…" Alec began, sensing there was more that Dean wasn't saying.

"Give him a well thought out eulogy? We had a few moments to chat," Dean darkly admitted, didn't think his brothers needed more info than that to know the gist of what had been said.

Insanely, Alec couldn't hold back his smile. Besides his leg nearly being blown off and being carried off a haunted battlefield like a child, the day hadn't ended up so bad. "Your plan worked, Dean," awe and pride mixing in the declaration.

"You call this _working_?" Dean scoffed, shaking his head at his little brother's screwed up version of a fairy tale ending.

But Sam joined in a second later. "Dean, the friggin _Union army_ took out Boris and his men. I think that gives you bonus points for originality in conflict resolution."

"And we're still alive.." Alec pointed out.

"You got chunks of metal in your leg!" Dean growled, as if Alec was forgetting that small inconsequential fact.

"Just another day in the life of a Winchester," Alec nonchalantly returned. "Hey, I hear that a lot of battle grounds are having reenactments this year to celebrate the one hundred and fifty year anniversary. We can start our own tour, travel from battlefield to battlefield. We'll call it "The Winchester Traveling Civil War Ghost Tour."

"No," Dean and Sam replied in synch.

"Ok, we can call it something else if you don't like that name…." Alec suggested, smiled broadly as both of his brothers growled his name in warning. "Alec!" But he only smiled harder at their exasperation. It was good to be alive, to have Boris out of the picture. But what was best of all was not being alone, of knowing that, even in the middle of a war, there was no dividing his family.

"You do realize this shrapnel could be worth some money, right? It's authentic forged metal from 1862…"

"Yeah and it's coming out of your authentically created leg from 1990 and going in the trash…" Dean shot back.

"Dean, he's actually right," Sam interjected, taking on his professor tone that had Dean rolling his eyes. "We could have the metal tested and …."

"We're not hanging onto any creepy, haunted metal and that's final. Now can we please just crawl back to civilization and get out of '_Glory_'?"

"Actually the storyline of '_Glory_' opened after the battle of Antietam, which will be five months after Shiloh, so…"

"Dude, you are officially cut off from watching the History channel," Dean bluntly ruled.

"Believe it or not, but there are other ways to learn something, Dean. I went to college, I read…"

"You watched the "Civil War" series on the history channel three days straight," Alec accommodatingly sing songed. After which he was the recipient of Sam's playful smack on the back of his head. "Ouch!" he grumbled like a little boy. "Hey wounded man here."

"Yeah and big brother here," Dean interjected his brothers' tom foolery. "And I say we never talk about the civil war, Boris, or me drinking Pedialyte, ever again. Deal?"

"Deal," his brothers readily agreed, knew that their pledge was about more than making a pact of silence.

It was a vow to each other that they would no longer allow the past to dictate their future. Not their country's past, not Manticore's past, not even their own pasts, apart or together. That what came next, it would be of their own choosing, would be about what mattered most to them, would be about them being a family that believed in hope.

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The End – Epilogue to follow

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Wow I didn't expect to wrap this storyline up in this chapter. I guess I could technically end the story here. But I do have a few things I wanted to cover yet, namely patching up Alec, so I plan on adding an epilogue. As for BHoney's request for a Winchester Christmas, I think that might come a bit later, depends on how inspiration hits me.

Thank you for all of your wonderful encouraging reviews and to all the people who've been reading this story. You have kept this little AU of mine alive. I'm very honored that you enjoyed Alec's inclusion in the Winchester world.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	31. Chapter 30: Epilogue part 1

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

Author's Note: Ok this isn't quite the short, all fluff epilogue I envisioned writing. Probably against every rule of grammar, I'm breaking my epilogue into 2 chapters. Otherwise you people might get bored and dose off mid-sentence. And though it has its share of angstiness, I promise it will all end happy. I hope you enjoy this part.

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Chapter 30 – What Matters Most – Epilogue – part 1

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Even in the feeble light emanating from the motel's lamp, the sight of the blood hemorrhaging from Alec's leg was horrifying, the flow quickly turning the yellowed threadbare sheets crimson. His trembling hands hovering over the strips of Sam's shirt that stood in for field bandages, Dean couldn't bring himself to untie the makeshift tourniquets, could not squelch the not so irrational fear that to do so would open the flood gates, would cause Alec to bleed to death.

Raising his eyes from the saturated fabric, Dean sought out Sam's face, needed someone to tell him that things would be Ok, that he wasn't about to watch his youngest brother die by his own hands, because of his own misguided heroics. But it wasn't Sam who found words possible but Alec.

Lying unmoving on the bed, too weak to even make an attempt to inspect the damage for himself, Alec prodded, "How's it look, Dr. Frankenstein?" a lightness to his words though they slipped out as breathless hisses of pain.

"Like you got part of the Terminator stuck in your leg," Dean zinged back, knew that he had to be strong for Alec, had to be the fearless, confident, proficient big brother Alec needed him to be.

"Awesome," Alec drawled, closing his eyes, his panic mollified by Dean's movie reference, found an anchor against his agony in his brother's confident unwavering voice. "Guess me and Sarah Connor will have the same scar."

"Yeah, and end up in the nut house if you retell the story of how you got it," Dean pointed out. He swallowed down his fear with his next breath because, Sarah Connor? She was a fictional character, had to yank only one piece of old Arnie outta her leg and she wasn't his _brother._ Lately, life imitating art? It sucked, big time.

Torn between wanting to dwell in the fictional world his brothers were trading barbs in and being the practical one, Sam slipped his question in the lull of conversation. "But you probably won't have a scar. The antigens in your blood, they repair cell damage, right?" his eyes skimming to Dean and then back down to Alec.

"That's what my ownership manual promises. Besides scars would bring down my remarketing value," Alec sallied back, didn't let a drop of his own doubt show. Sure, Manticore had torn him apart a time or two just for the heck of it and a mission or five had gone off course and he had been wounded, but they had always pieced him back together again. Hated that his mind went nit-picky and qualified who "they" were: Manticore, a dedicated league of highly trained, and more highly motivated medical professionals. Doctors and nurses who, if Lydecker could be believed, fought to keep the transgenics alive so they would, in turn, not lose their job..or their own lives. Apparently Manticore's 'no screw-up' policy hadn't just applied to its Petri dish employees.

Not reassured by Alec's wisecrack, Dean looked worriedly to Sam. If either of them had ended up with shrapnel embedded in their leg, it would be a hospital stop, no questions asked. But with Alec, that wasn't an option. Not unless they wanted to risk having their little brother snatched away from them and stuffed in some cage for the rest of his life, the perpetual lab rat. Just thinking of that happening, Dean fought down a shiver. He knew better than ever before what horrors had been visited on Alec by Manticore, and there was no way his brother was ever going to be hurt like that again. Over his dead body.

When Sam spoke, Dean thanked God for his little emo brother who wasn't afraid to voice his feelings.

Looking down at Alec, Sam gently began, "We really don't know how your body heals. Maybe we should contact Lydecker, get him to come here…."

Dean finished the sentence in his head that Sam's couldn't, '_Yeah, get him to come here and prevent us from you killing you or permanently screwing up your leg.'_

But Alec was forcibly shaking his head at Sam's proposal, had started to prop himself up on the bed with his elbows. "No. No way! I don't want him here."

"Alec, I thought you trusted him…" Sam carefully pointed out, hands wrapping around Alec's shoulders intending to get his brother to lie back down.

But Alec didn't deny or confirm Sam's statement, instead he directed his intense focus onto his oldest brother. "'_Me with some whiskey and you with a sharp knife to dig it out and I'll be good as new,_' That's what you said. Nothing's changed," Alec insisted, knew that he was backing Dean into a corner, was making Dean accountable for things out of his control. But he was desperate, feared that, if Lydecker stepped through that door, everything would change, his brothers would step back out of his reach, would slip out of his sight. And he couldn't bear even that momentary separation any more than he could endure the thought of his life resting in hands that weren't his brothers'.

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_They wanted him to scream. They wanted him to beg. They wanted him to understand that he was theirs and they could do whatever they wanted with him. They were doing this to prove to him what he already knew. He could obey them or he could die. Those were his only options. There were no other._

But somewhere in the corner of Alec's mind, in the place he always barricaded himself when the agony became too much, there was one thought that defied everything he knew. '_They'll save me._'

The hope, it terrified him more than the pain, more than the fear that he was dying. It was the one thing he had never allowed himself to seek, ever. Had attributed Ben going psycho with hope, his cloned brother's false hope in some fairy tale Blue Lady had surely been his downfall. Hope that had never panned out, had been brutally proven to be only wishful thinking.

Alec had never dreamed about what could have been, never ached for a different life, never dared to believe that there was something better outside the ranks of Manticore. Not for him. Had thought it was might be possible for some of the others, the ones that obeyed unquestionably, the ones that didn't feel like throwing up after perfectly executing an assassination, the ones that didn't hate themselves for earning a word of praise. For in his eyes, there was nothing more estimable than a perfect soldier, on the outside as well as in the inside.

Maybe that was why he worked so hard to appear obedient, to coldly report the completion of murder after murder, that he sought accolades from his superiors, to cover up what was inside him, the weakness, the confusion, the burning self loathing. It was why he made sure no one ever got close to him, could peek into his center and know that he was as phony as the aliases Manticore made for him. That he wasn't the prefect soldier, wasn't the perfect anything. He was messed up, maybe more than Ben would ever be because at least Ben did _something_, acted, rebelled, ran, took everything eating him up inside and let it spill out, bloody and gruesome but real. Not fabricated, not fake, but honest. Even if it was nine types of crazy.

When the agony spiked to nearly an unbearable level, instead of screaming, he whimpered, accepted what was always his in the first place. "Deserve …this…" And he did, deserved every measure of agony Manticore could delivere, deserved worse. He was a failure, in more ways then he could number. And Manticore should know that and so should ….

But his mind shorted out, wouldn't let the names, the faces come to him, left them elusive, hidden, painfully out of his reach.

He jolted at the touch even before he felt the pain. Then he tensed, steadied himself, waited for the amplified wave of pain to come..but it never did. Instead, the touch, it brushed over his forehead like a feather light breeze, carded through his sweat drenched hair, gave him something he had rarely ever experienced amid his pain….relief, comfort, strength to endure the next onslaught of agony. Then someone was talking. But the voice wasn't asking for another sterile instrument to slice into him, wasn't instructing someone to saw off his leg that was the source of his agony, wasn't cataloguing his every reaction for the Manticore eggheads.

"No, you don't deserve this, Alec. And it'll be over soon."

No, this voice, the last thing it was, was detached. Against everything Manticore drilled into him, he found himself reacting to the offered absolution, to the assurances even as he struggled with his foggy brain to identify the voice's owner. He yearned for it to continue, wanted it to never stop, to never go away.

Then he felt it, the hand within his own, the squeeze his appendage was given, not one that gave pain but was a point of contact that offered strength, a release, an outlet to his agony other than screaming. Blindly, trustingly, he took what was offered, tightened his fingers around the hand in his and held on tight.

"You just gotta hold on, Alec. We'll make the pain stop, I promise."

Promise, it was a word Manticore never taught him, never used.

Then a different voice spoke, tripped more of his emotional sensors but his memories still wouldn't quite unfold.

"Sam…" the voice was pleading for something. It broke on the name that wasn't his, a name Alec treasured more than he would ever his own.

The voices floated seemingly over him, but most of the words didn't make sense to him, couldn't cut through the agony he was nearly drowning in.

"Dean, you have to keep going."

"Because I might as well finish the butcher job my plan started…" anger and despair drenched the deeper voice. "For all I know I'm crippling him…or killing him. We need to call Lydecker…"

Alec jerked diminutively at the mere mention of his commander's name, mentally recoiled at the notion of Lydecker joining the newest experiment Manticore decided to test on him.

"Alec didn't want Lydecker to do it. He wanted you to."

"Sammy, I can't…."

"You can. You have to…"

No matter what Manticore believed, Alec never enjoyed the sound of someone in pain. And hearing pain in the voices he heard now, it was unbearable, was worse than anything Manticore could inflict on him.

"I don't even know what damage I might be doing. Lydecker …"

"No," Alec shouted, thought he shouted but it came out weak even to his own ears. "No," he repeated breathlessly, needed to know his protest was heard.

When the deeper voice spoke, it was closer, the speaker almost within his grasp if he could move, could open his eyes.

"Alec, this is out of my league, kiddo," apology and pain and self loathing were all embedded in the declaration. "Lydecker, he's a doctor, knows how your body works, how much…." The words stopped and he heard an audible swallow before they continued. "Sammy and I will be right here. We won't leave your side. We'll make sure Lydecker doesn't hurt you."

But all he could associate with Lydecker was pain, of every kind. "No," and he rolled his head, struggled to open his eyes, to beseech the beloved owners of those two voices to do what Manticore never had, to care what **he** **wanted**. Though his vision was blurry, it was sharp enough that he could see both of the men leaning over him. Suddenly, all the pieces came together and he knew that, no matter how much pain he was in, these were the last people on earth who would ever wish it upon him.

"Don't need …him," Alec forced the words out, struggled every moment to keep his thoughts from slipping away. He could see the way his oldest brother's face twisted with anguish at his words. "Just need…you two."

His name came out as a choked entreaty from Dean. "Alec…"

Knowing that he would never put his smart aleck skills to better use than at that moment, Alec, hoping he was managing a smirk, wheezed out, "'Sides, my warranty's expired. Now it's…you break 'em, you fix 'em."

The smiles he earned from both his brothers were half heartbreak, half humor. And that wasn't good enough.

"Pain, I know. I can deal with it," he vowed, needing Dean to believe him, believe in his strength.

"But you don't have to. We can…." Dean began but Alec gave a barely coordinated shake of his head.

"I'ld rather deal with pain by your hands…. than be saved by anyone else's," Alec candidly announced, his eyes unflinchingly meeting Dean's even as he squeezed Sam's hand, told his other brother that the sentiment included him, always would. Because this pain, it wasn't about cruelty or scientific breakthroughs, it was about Dean and Sam wanting him to be ok, about them determined to save him, refusing to lose him.

For a moment, Alec feared that Dean would deny his request, would unknowingly shatter the emotional dam that only his trust in his brothers was keeping intact. But then he saw the shift of emotions in his brother's green eyes. He held his breath as his brother reached out, only released it when Dean's hand settled on his chest. And the tethering, comforting weight of Dean's hand, it kept him together, sealed the crack that almost was.

"Ok, Alec. Ok. I won't call Lydecker. We'll do this together, just the three of us."

Alec nodded, closed his eyes and swallowed down the sob of relief he feared Dean would misinterpret. "Thanks," he breathed out when his emotions allowed speech.

But there was a grimness in his brother's reply. "Don't ever thank me for hurting you, Alec."

Alec wanted to react to that raw order, wanted to open his eyes, meet Dean's and tell his brother it wasn't like that, but a gentle hand came to rest over his eyes, kept his eyes closed. And instead of panic, he felt a calmness settle over him, felt his body sink more heavily into the mattress.

"Just keep your eyes closed, Alec. Don't fight it so hard," Dean soothingly said as he leaned over his brother, wishing that Alec would just let himself pass out, escape the pain any way he could. "There isn't anyone here that you need to be brave for. We already know you're the toughest thing to ever come out of Manticore …well except for Max."

"Jerk," Alec retorted with a laugh but he didn't fight his brother's instructions, kept his eyes closed, reveled in the touch of the hand over his eyes, of Sam's hand on his head, let his tension slink out of his muscles, let his fears sputter into flickering of dying light. No matter what happened, he wasn't alone, his brothers had snatched him out of the void of agony and he knew that, his little voice was right, they would always come for him, would save him, as many times as they had to.

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Exiting the motel room, Sam found his prey easily enough. Stuffing his hands inside his coat pockets to keep them warm, he crossed the parking lot to his brother's statue like pose on a fallen tree trunk. Taking a page out of Dean's book, he opened with a taunt, "Thought you'ld have had your fill of nature for awhile?" But when Dean didn't even look at him, did not offer up even a hint of a smirk, Sam knew he had his work cut out for him.

Claiming a seat on the tree trunk beside Dean, close enough that their knees touched, Sam bent his own head down in an effort to try and read his brother's profile. "Alec is going to be fine, Dean."

Not raising his eyes to Sam, Dean caustically baited, "Why? Because he's this indestructible super charged soldier?" His anger for no one but himself.

"No," Sam quietly denied. "He's going to be alright because he's a Winchester, because he's so much like you. He won't accept anything less from himself than a full recovery."

But Dean shook his head and focused his guilt ridden eyes on his blood stained hands resting on his thighs. "You don't know he'll heal, Sam. I don't know if I just crippled him for life," his voice cracking apart at the terrified admission.

Unable to fight down his own reaction to Dean's pain, Sam's own voice shook, "Dean, don't. You didn't…."

"We should have called Lydecker. Should have had him treat Alec…at gunpoint if necessary," Dean's harsh words of regret cutting across Sam's optimism.

"Yeah but Alec didn't want Lydecker to patch him up," Sam earnestly stressed, his tone exceedingly gentle, not having the heart to again repeat, '_He wanted you to, Dean_.' Because it had taken a lot out of Dean to remain strong in the face of Alec's agony, Sam knew that. He also knew that, as stoically as Dean endured his own agony, it broke his big brother apart to see someone that he loved in pain. Especially when he blamed himself for them being hurt in the first place, thought that he had failed in his job to keep them safe.

It was the reason he had offered to spare Dean the torment of removing the shrapnel from Alec's leg, an offer that was somberly refused.

The first piece of shrapnel had come out relatively clean, had given them a false sense of hope. Alec's strangled scream as Dean wrestled the next hunk of metal from his little brother's leg shattered those illusions.

Leaning over Alec, his chest pressed against his brother's and his forearm pinning Alec's shoulders to the bed, Sam tried to keep his brother's agony wracked body still as Dean struggled to rid Alec of the ruthless souvenirs the night had left him with. But it was Sam's eyes that filled with tears when they collided with Alec's, when he nearly drown in his brother's exposed, suffering, vulnerable gaze.

Looking away, Sam sought comfort from the person who had been his rock his entire life. But what he found in Dean's face, it mirrored what was in Alec's, was torment incarnate.

He made the offer before he knew he would, before he knew whether he could fulfill it. "Dean, I can take over." Because as much as he knew Alec's agony was unavoidable, Dean's wasn't. He could do something to lessen his brother's pain, his guilt, the responsibility Dean always assumed upon himself and wouldn't let anyone else carry for him.

But Dean shook his head, bit out, "No," would not let this responsibility be shifted from his shoulders, would not let his youngest brother be tended or, in this case, tortured by anyone other than himself. No, he loved Alec too much to give up on him and loved Sam too much to lay the guilt of hurting their youngest brother on his soul. This was the cost of being the big brother, of failing to keep his brothers safe, of letting them risk their lives for his own.

Knowing that Dean would not budge on his resolve, Sam looked down to Alec, wished that they had some morphine or even some frigging over the counter pain killers to deaden his brother's agony. That he had some way to make it stop, Alec's agony, Dean's guilt. That he could find a way to stop being powerless to help his brothers.

'_If there is a worse place than hell, I am in it._' The quote came to him then, embodied what he felt and didn't know how to express any better. Knew that, after being ringside as a civil war battle raged and now being in the room with his one badly wounded brother and his other guilt ridden brother, that he intimately knew what Abraham Lincoln meant.

All he could do was to not do what he wanted to most. To not run away but meet Alec's eyes as they dulled with shock and pain and be there for Dean, to take over if his brother couldn't bear to inflict an ounce more of pain on Alec. He had run away too many times before. Now, the only direction he ever planned to run, was to his brothers.

Shaking away the horrific memories of the past hour, Sam ached at the sight of the etched sorrow on Dean's face. "Alec wanted you to help him," he repeated, as if he too needed the reassurance. And as much as he wanted Dean to look at him, when his brother did, it took everything he had to not drop his eyes from his brother's, to not skitter away from his brother's fear.

"Did I help him, Sam?" Dean sharply demanded, but there was a small kernel of earnest need in his brother's tone, in the look he leveled at Sam that begged for an answer.

"Yes, Dean! Of course you did. You got all the shrapnel out of his leg…" but as Sam spoke, Dean abruptly stood up, walked a few paces away, put his back to him.

"Shrapnel that wouldn't have _been there_ if we didn't follow my stupid plan," Dean growled, wanted to redo all that had happened, could see in the perfect 20/20 vision of hindsight how egotistical it had been to think he could manipulate ghosts to do his dirty work for him. "If I would have just faced Boris' men myself, didn't hide behind some buck and a half century old horse soldiers…"

Surging off the tree trunk, Sam strode forward, loomed at his brother's side, demanded, "Faced Boris' men by yourself? You mean without me? Without Alec? Is that your solution for everything, Dean? Self sacrifice!"

Spinning to face Sam, Dean shouted, "It's better than this, than crippling Alec, you almost getting killed!"

"Says who!" Sam shouted right back. But then he took a breath, notched down his anger, sought to make Dean see reason. When he spoke again, his tone was remorseful but without condemnation, "You know what? I'm never going to change you, am I? Dad has you so programmed to give, give, give. Well that isn't what I need from you, or what Alec needs from you."

"Right? And what is it you _do need_ from me?" Dean shot back, his irk raised at Sam's disappointment in him, that, at the heart of it, he was still their Dad's little soldier.

Sam shifted on his feet, wasn't quite prepared for Dean's comeback. "Ok, for one, Alec needs you to be there when he wakes up, to remind him that he might be in pain but …he's not alone, that we are both still there and we're not going anywhere."

Dean stilled at Sam's demand, knew that he could do that. Hesitantly he prodded, "And two?"

"Two…" Sam began but there was uncertainty in his tone, not truly knowing what _he_ wanted from his brother. Truth was, his needs had boiled down to simply having his brother at his side, of knowing that, no matter how things almost turned out, he hadn't lost his brother, to a crossroad deal, or to Manticore's Frankenstein project. But Dean was actually waiting for his reply, might even concede to anything he asked right then.

Seeing the smile that emerged on Sam's face, Dean knew he had been duped, that his little brother was going to pull the old Sammy whammy on him and coerce him into agreeing to do something he in no way wanted to. "Sam, whatever it is, forget it."

"No, no, no, Dean. You asked what I wanted and I'm honor bound to tell you," Sam lightly pressed, latching onto Dean's arm before his brother could try and slip away. "See Alec and I…we made this bet…."

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TBC

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Everyone still awake? Review if that's a yes.

Final, and I mean _final_ chapter to be posted as soon as I do some nipping and tucking and my beta gives it her seal of approval.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	32. Chapter 31: Epilogue part 2

It Runs In The Family

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Crossover with Dark Angel and Supernatural –AU. Dean, Sam and Alec's continuing adventures. No slash.

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Chapter 31 – What Matters Most – Epilogue – part 2 aka The end

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It wasn't a foreign occurrence to Alec to wake up in pain. For most of his life, pain was the last thing he felt before he slept at night and the first thing that registered with him every morning. He just came to accept that it was Manticore's take on a goodnight lullaby and reveille.

But while the awareness of pain was almost expected there were other things that were wholly not expected. Like the feel of a hand nestled in his own and the weight of something warm lying on his stomach.

Forcing his eyes open, Alec blinked against the light filtering into the windows until his enhanced retinas compensated, brought the room into sharp focus. But that focus quickly shimmered as his eyes filled at the sight of his sleeping brothers. Of Sam sitting in a chair to his left, his brother's larger but immeasurably gentle hand in his and of Dean slumped against the right side of his bed, his big brother's head mashed onto the edge of the mattress and his arm flung over Alec's waist.

In that moment, the pain, all of it was worth it. Squeezing Sam's hand and lightly brushing his other hand over Dean's disheveled hair, Alec didn't think there was a luckier guy in the whole world than him. He smiled as his brothers almost simultaneously jerked awake, left the comfort of sleep simply at his touch, because he might have need of them.

"Alec," Sam breathed, a wide smile blooming on his face.

Alec wanted to be true to form, to offer up some wisecrack, to prove that he was alright, to not worry his brothers more than their eyes revealed they were. But only one thought ebbed through his mind. "You're here," awe and gratitude and happiness coiled in the simple observation.

Exchanging a look with Sam, Dean expected Sam to gloat at having pegged Alec's needs correctly. Instead, Sam just smiled all the wider before he looked to Alec.

"Only place we would be, Alec," Sam simply stated, his eyes crinkling with affection as they held Alec's.

Alec smiled back at Sam, reveled in his brother's warm assurance. Then he rolled his head to face Dean, knew that his oldest brother wouldn't telegraph his emotions like Sam did, that he would have to decipher what Dean wouldn't say.

But to his surprise, Dean proved easier to read than Sam ever was. His oldest brother's affection, his relief, his fear, it was there in Dean's tremulous expression, in the depths of his eyes, in the wavering confession. "I thought we were going to lose you…that I lost you…."

"Never happen," Alec reassured. Though the declaration came out hoarsely, his eyes sparkled with life as they looked from one brother to the next. "Stubbornness, the likes you've never seen before, runs in my family. It's a curse really…"

Sam chuckled and Dean smirked, challenged, "A curse, huh?"

"Totally, like good looks. Other transgenics just have to deal with the feline hormones, but me, I've got this Greek godlike appearance. It's a real burden, let me tell you."

"So I've been told," Sam teasingly drawled, looking from Alec to Dean and getting cocky smiles back from both of them.

"Yeah, like you're not beating them off with a stick every bar we go into…" Dean mumbled in mock jealousy. Looking to Alec, he drawled, "Did Sam tell you about the rich cougar that couldn't keep her hands off him …"

But things were starting to reconfigure in Alec's head, the hows and the whys and the 'why aren't we dead?' slowly adding up. So before his brothers could bamboozle him further with their purposefully lighthearted banter, Alec interrupted, more than a trance of Manticore soldier in his no-nonsense tone. "How long have I been out? Can Lydecker tell if Manticore is still coming after us? Do you have trip wires set up outside?"

"One question at a time, tiger," Dean soothed, putting a steadying hand on Alec's shoulder to calm his suddenly frantic brother. But Alec's eyes bore impatiently into his, demanded answers to all of his questions and more. Like all big brothers, Dean folded, scrambled to settle his little brother's fears. "You've been out a few hours. And yes, we have booby traps set up because, believe it or not, Sammy and I know a little bit about how to protect ourselves, don't need you to supervise us all the time," he sarcastically drawled, because, yeah, he catered to Alec but that didn't mean he didn't resent it just a tiny bit. After all, little brothers were supposed to cower in the mere presence of their big brother.

Not even reacting to his brother's mocking indignation, Alec pressed, "What did Lydecker say? Is Manticore closing down Boris' research? Is the tracker in Dean's blood still working?" directing his final question to Sam.

Understanding Alec's tenacious worry, Sam patiently announced, "We didn't call Lydecker." At Alec's, frustrated, almost angry expression, he gently reminded, "Alec, you made us promise to not call Lydecker, remember? So well…we didn't." He watched as his brother's forehead creased in confusion before it smoothed out but his mouth turned down into a grim frown.

"To not call and get him here to play Dr. Feelgood _for me_," Alec slowly pronounced, struggling to not condemn his brothers for their recklessly blind acquiescence to his wishes. "That didn't mean you shouldn't have asked him, oh I don't know, if you were going to end up on a Manticore exam table if you were foolish enough to stay in some motel for a few hours to fix me up."

Sam was too stunned at the reprimand to reply but Dean didn't have any such limitations.

"Oh, excuse us for making saving your life our top priority," Dean sarcastically volleyed back. "And since you were acting like Lydecker was the boogie man, I thought you'ld come up swinging if I even _spoke_ Lydecker's name again, that you would think I betrayed you, went against your wishes and was calling him to come stitch you up. Which I didn't. I shoulda …but I didn't."

Alec's breath trapped in his chest but it had nothing to do with the physical trauma his body was still overcoming and had everything to do with the heartbreak in Dean's tone, in the paleness of Sam's complexion, in the exhaustion evident in both of his brothers' eyes. He silently cursed, hated that he was berating his brothers when he knew that everything they had done, it was all for him, to save him.

Forcing air into his tight lungs, Alec nodded, hoarsely returned, "Can we do a retake? Start with me saying 'thanks for saving my butt, _again_.' Lead casually into 'So how are things? Are we expecting any visitors?' 'Have I mentioned lately that I have the most awesomest brothers in the whole wide world?'"

Sam couldn't help himself, he laughed out loud at Alec's antics. He loved the kid too much to hold a grudge, especially when Alec had only been reacting out of fear. '_For our welfare. Mine and Dean's.' _He knew that Alec was only angry because he and Dean had put his welfare ahead their own. '_He's a chip right off the block, that's for sure_,' he thought, turning to see what said block's reaction would be.

Blindsided by Alec's repentance, earnestness and open affection, Dean fell silent, couldn't join Sam's laughter, not when his throat was closing up on him. Clearing his throat, he mumbled, "Yeah, well, ….." and then he petered out, could not voice the rest. That he had the awesomest little brothers. That he was sorry for getting angry, that Alec had gotten hurt in the first place. Wanted to explain that all this, it wasn't about anger. It was about fear, his fear of losing his family, of losing Alec. He managed at last, a husky, "That's more like it."

Knowing that Sam's laughter and Dean's awkwardness equaled forgiveness, Alec pulled on a cocky smile. "Now that that's settled. Ya gotta tell me about this cougar with the great taste to like Sam," he prodded, enjoying the blush that instantly pinked Sam's cheeks.

"No, Dean. You promised you would never mention that again…" Sam nearly pouted, only to be met with his big brother's devious smile.

"I lied."

And Sam didn't interrupt once…but five times in Dean's story telling, all the while basking in Alec's laughter and in Dean's smile and in the notion that everything was going to be fine.

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It had nearly taken an act of God, but Alec had finally gotten his brothers to leave the room, to go grab something to eat in the diner across the street. Of course that was only after he vowed to stay in bed, to not _think_ about even _crawling _to the little boy's room on his own. He would have chaffed at the lecture if his brothers' open concern for him didn't turn his insides to mush.

'_But they didn't say anything about not reaching out and touching someone_,' he rationalized as he picked up the cell phone that Sam had made sure was within his reach. You know, in case he needed his big brothers in the twenty minutes or less that they would be gone. Because, though they had said they might be gone for an hour, Alec would bet his motorcycle that his brothers wouldn't be able to stay away from him that long. '_Big bad hunters, more like big scruffy teddy bears_,' he warmly scoffed as he dialed the phone number he had committed to memory.

Contrary to what his big brothers thought, Dean and Sam did need him to protect them. Especially when they were not watching their backs as fiercely as he would. Well, if he could. And that was the whole point of the phone in his hand. He couldn't protect his brothers right now, not unless the threat fled at poor karaoke singing.

"Hello?" Came the cautious greeting from the only person who could help him safeguard his brothers.

"Aaahhh, were you waiting by the phone for my call?" Alec snarkily asked, fighting down his mixed emotions at the sound of Lydecker's voice, at the knowledge that the man was still alive, was still out there.

The audible sigh of relief he heard across the connection? Alec didn't quite know what was a performance and what was real when it came to his former commander.

"Since your opening words weren't a threat, I'm assuming you found Dean," Lydecker replied, his words coming out more a worried question than he intended.

"Yeah, the reunion was a cross between 'Rumble in the Bronx' and a Lifetime Movie but that's just our family for you. Course the reunion that was the real historical page turner was ours with Boris. In case your sources are behind the times, Boris is dead. My guess is that his whole team is," a proud, deadliness hummed through Alec's statement.

"Boris was in the field? He never…he's .." Lydecker stammered.

"More of a stay-at-home kinda guy? Well, like you always taught us, feelings get in the way of clear thinking. He wanted Dean so badly…" Alec began but he had to take a moment to wipe out the memory of just how close Boris had gotten to killing him and Sam, to taking Dean back to Manticore. "He made it personal…and so did we," he savagely declared.

"His team…there were maybe twenty or more men assigned …"

"Gee, aren't we Mr. Information suddenly," Alec darkly cut in, beginning to wonder how long Lydecker had this information and hadn't bothered to share. "You barely got us any leads on Dean's tracker and now, all of a sudden, you're read in on the file. Did you make another deal, sign up for another Manticore project?"

"No! No! Of course not…"

"Because you would never work for sadists like that?" Alec incredulously shot back. "Would never use a supposed friend's son as a component in your experiment? Would never put my _brother_ on a medical slab to see your sick dream realized?" The words coming out of him before he could hold them back.

And then it was like opening Pandora's box, the million questions about himself breaking free, demanding answers as insistently as his lungs demanded breath. "You know, that's what I don't understand. Why John Winchester's son? Did you hate John? Did you want to call him up one day, gloat that you exploited, _distorted_ the goodness that was in his son. Why, Lydecker? Make me understand. Why did you make me? Use Dean to do it?"

"Alec…" Lydecker began, would not answer what Alec was asking, could not. Did not want to.

"You don't mean Alec. You mean 494, right? Good little obedient soldier who thought you would look out for me, who believed that a family was having someone like you in his life. Someone who taught me, trained me, helped me survive. But now I know, I know what you are…and what you aren't."

Drawing in a breath, shaking his head, Alec rid himself of the thousand wounds of his childhood. When he continued, his voice was steady, cold. "You saved Dean and Sam. That's worth more to me than anything else you could have done…or not done. Just tell me if the tracker in Dean is still functional, if someone's going to take up Boris' experiment, come looking for Dean. You tell me that and you'll never hear from me again. I won't even mention your name at the Manticore reunions."

Though Alec had slipped behind his façade, was throwing out wisecracks like landmines, Lydecker wasn't fooled. Knew what ran beneath the younger man's words, that, after everything he had done, had risked, Alec thought he presented a threat to his brothers, that if they met again, Alec would be inclined to take it as an act of aggression against him and his brothers.

'_Did you think he forgot everything you drilled into him? To savagely defend Manticore to the death, if necessary. To not let anything stop him from completing his mission. To never abandon his unit. Alec remembers it all…lives by it in the new world he's created. He would kill to save his brothers, would die rather than fail them and would never leave them. Ever.'_

"Lydecker," Alec growled, his patience fleeing and his anger growing at the man's lack of response.

Not doubting Alec's boast that Boris was no longer among the living, Lydecker guaranteed, "With Boris gone, his experiment will be closed."

"What about Dean? Someone else might find him valuable, since he's the sole surviving DNA donor and all."

"They won't be coming for him again," Lydecker confidently cut in. "I hacked into the mainframe, removed his name and everything that linked him to you or to any of your clones."

Lydecker's statement, it should have produced only relief in Alec but instead it struck a blow he didn't know he was susceptible to. '_Removed…everything that linked him to you_.' There was anger, hurt in his tone as he shot back, "That's what you do best, isn't it. Destroy connections, rip families apart, treat people like they are your own personal salvage yard, steal the parts you want and scrap all the rest. And then you take what you stole and twist it, create it into something _you_ can control, can manipulate. What appealed to you most about Dean, his pain, his strength or the fact that his father raised him to be a soldier?" he spat, not expecting an answer.

But he got one.

"All of that," Lydecker quietly admitted, as much to Alec as to himself.

Alec squeezed his eyes shut, had not been as ready for the truth as he thought he was. Was infinitely glad that Dean wasn't there, wasn't hearing the callous reasons that made him worthy to inspire a string of clones that would never be even five percent the man he was.

"Even so young, Dean was exemplary, showed bravery and discipline…."

"Stop!" Alec harshly hissed, hands fisting around the phone, would have been around Lydecker's throat if the man were there.

"..was so like John and yet, so different."

Alec wanted to cut off Lydecker's words again but he selfishly didn't. He yearned for any small insight into his brothers' father, for an outsider's point of view of Dean and Sam's childhood that he greedily fell silent.

The Manticore scientist didn't stop his flow of words, needed someone to understand, to know what he had strived to achieve. "John, had changed since Vietnam, losing someone irreplaceable, losing his wife, it had hardened him in ways the war hadn't. Only his need for revenge and his two boys were keeping him going. And I understood that, living with only memories, aching for what you lost, wanting to get them back, any way you could," Lydecker's admitted, his voice husky with regret and remembered pain.

"And Max was your way, wasn't she?" Alec surmised, suddenly remembering something Max had told him about Lydecker. "Her DNA is from someone you loved…and lost."

"Yes," Lydecker acknowledged, an edge to his voice that Alec had never heard before from the Manticore commander, a weakness, a vulnerability. "I wanted part of her back, and then I saw John with his sons…."

Alec felt sick as the pieces fell together. Dean hadn't been part of the X5 transgenic program, he had been the inspiration for it. Lydecker had wanted what John Winchester had so badly that he had broken every moral code, had sought not to create a new race but to create living breathing humans.

"Using human DNA, having surrogate mothers, it succeeded where the other experiments with only animal DNA failed," Lydecker said, extolling his genetic breakthrough like he thought Alec would be someone who would appreciate such genius. "In appearance, you were human, simply gifted with nature's most useful instincts. You were to be the best of us, of who we were. You could do things ordinary humans couldn't, could survive extreme conditions and extensive wounds. You were created to risk your life so humans didn't have to. To die so we didn't have to lose the ones we loved."

Alec pulled in a shaky inhale, was overloaded by Lydecker's confession, by the man's motives, by the emotions it stirred in him. A memorial and a replacement, a scapegoat and saving grace. He was meant to be it all. To be better than humans, and to die to save them. He was a fusion of what John Winchester had lost and could never bear to lose.

"But you were…" Lydecker choked back the words and for a moment, it seemed like he wouldn't continue. When he did, his voice was strong and his convictions were stronger. "Were more human than I ever planned for you to be. You weren't stand-ins for who I lost, for who John lost. You had some of the traits of your DNA donors, had most of their looks, yes, but you weren't them any more than a child is their parents. And just like every person ever born, the decisions you make, what you value, who you choose to follow in this life, it defines who you are."

"I once followed you…" Alec pointed out with shame, knowing more than ever that Lydecker wasn't the greatest of role models, that the paths he had lead him down were dark and unseemly.

"Not willingly," Lydecker gruffly reminded. "But you would follow Dean and Sam to the ends of earth. You want their respect like you never sought mine. I might have stolen Dean's DNA but you earned your place with your brothers. They love you unconditionally and that's something rare and precious, something not a lot of us ever get in this life."

"So you expect me to thank you…for exploiting Dean when he was just a child? For creating me? For creating Ben and loco 492? For playing _God_?" Alec asked but there was little heat in the words, was more searching wonder.

"No," Lydecker curtly answered. "Not thank me….or forgive me. Truth is, I wouldn't undo what I did. But if I had to do it all over again…."

"What? You'ld teach us how to play baseball and paint smiley faces," Alec sardonically challenged.

That got a low chuckle from Lydecker. "No. Not that. But I guess I would take a page out of your brothers' book."

"How's that?"

"Just because they didn't _expect_ you to come into their lives, that didn't mean that they didn't _need_ you in their lives."

Alec was struck speechless by Lydecker's sentimental wisdom. He had always thought that that was the reason his brothers were in _his_ life, not the other way around. Then, before Lydecker could think he suddenly turned mute, Alec covered up his emotional upheaval with a snarky, backhanded statement of praise, "Maybe you're not as full of crap as I thought you were."

"I have my moments. I have my moments. Now take care of yourself, Alec, because, like you've proven at every turn, you're one of the good guys. You and your brothers both are," Donald Lydecker said before he ended the connection, not aware that his parting words caused a joyous smile to emerge on his former pupil's face the brilliance of which none of his clones would ever sport.

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The next afternoon, Sam entered the motel room with three lunches in hand, was heading for the table when he came up short. Slowly, he backtracked, came to a towering halt over the two figures on the couch.

"Yeah, you sure are one tough disciplinarian, Dean," he taunted his older brother but his eyes were purposefully resting on Alec. Alec who was tucked into a nice comfy ball _on the couch_ and using Dean's lap as a foot rest. Alec who Dean swore up and down wasn't allowed to get out of bed.

"Ssshhh…" Dean hushed, eyes dropping to make sure Sam's outburst didn't wake Alec. Finding Alec's breathing still even with sleep, he looked up to Sam in time to see his brother shake his head while sporting his most cocky of smirks.

Dropping his voice to a whisper, Sam gloated, "You're such a softie, Dean. Whenever Dad left you in charge you never punished me for anything."

"Sam, you were a geek. You never did anything that needed punishment," Dean quietly shot back, purposefully shutting down the memories of all the times that he had wanted to throttle his rebellious little brother.

"Yeah, right," Sam snorted. "You caved instead of punishing me."

"Which is probably why you're such a spoiled brat," Dean lobbed at Sam but there was no malice in his words, and his eyes were filled with affection for said spoiled brat.

Sam smiled softly at the accusation. "No doubt. And Alec's got you wrapped around his super powered pinkie too."

"Does not," Dean protested in a hissed whisper.

"Does too," Sam sing songed.

As if to prove that point, when Alec moved, let out an exhaled breath, Dean froze, dreaded the return of the crease of pain on his little brother's features. A crease that never came. With one little brother seen to, he reluctantly looked up at Sam, knew he had made Sam's point for him. But Sam only had eyes for Alec.

Smugness seeped into Dean as he realized he wasn't the only one wrapped around Alec's little finger. "Yeah, 'cause you haven't been spoiling him one bit. Would never strong arm me into agreeing to throw your bet with Alec, make sure Alec won…and you lost?" Dean pressed, cocking an eyebrow in incredulousness.

"I really want to learn to cook," Sam petulantly returned, but as the left side of Dean's mouth raised in a '_yeah, right Sammy'_ smirk, he exhaled. "It's not like you don't want to learn to play the piano."

"Yeah, because it's about _me_. It's so not about you giving Alec anything he wants?" Dean snorted. "You trying to out do me for big brother of the year?"

Sam couldn't help but smile at that notion. "Absolutely. I think I'll have it in the bag if you agree to one more thing…."  
"No."

"You haven't even heard what it is yet."

"And still I'm saying no."

A sleep thickened voice interrupted their banter. "I'll call the big brother thing a tie …."

Dean shot Sam a reprimanding look for waking their wounded little brother even as Sam's face was marked with guilty shame.

Apprehensively they watched Alec roll onto his back with a grimace. But a cocksure smile appeared on his pale features as he pinned both of his brothers with his gaze. "..if you two do me one favor…"

"Anything," Sam and Dean wholeheartedly vowed at the same time, their voices complimenting each other like only the best bands ever could. The ones that seemed divinely sanctioned.

And it took all of Alec's covert training to not smile at the victory he could almost smell. "There's this thing I want for Christmas. You could say it's pretty close to my heart…" he drawled, patting his chest, right where the protection tattoo rested on both of his brothers' chests.

"No!" Dean heatedly forbade. But an instant later, it wasn't just Alec giving him the puppy dog eyes. Apparently his little brothers weren't above double teaming him.

Employing his most effective peace-making tone, the one he unveiled when Dean was being stubbornly overprotective, Sam began, "Just hear him out Dean…"

"No. End of discussion," Dean snapped, eyes giving Sam a glare before settling firmly on Alec. No way were they going to change his mind on this one. He was the big brother and he did know best.

"It's not like it'll be my first run in with ink," Alec serenely supplied, stepping up to the plate to take his turn at persuading Dean. "And I've really come to appreciate the artistic message of my bar code. It's kind of a modern, 'we are the world' message. That we're all products on the shelf of life…."

"Aaahhh please, I'm gonna hurl if you continue," Dean interrupted, his tone a cross between a whine and a threat, hoping that ended the debate because, like it or not, he was a captive audience. He would not do a thing to jostle Alec's injured leg, which meant he was trapped on the couch, wasn't going anywhere,. Trouble was, his brothers knew that too.

Sitting down on the small table beside Dean's propped up legs, Sam mischievously added, "Dean, come on. I don't know why you're being such a stick in the mud when it comes to tats. You don't seem to mind girls with tattoos."

"Speaking from experience, I've gotta tell you that girls with tattoos are way more fun," Alec said with a waggle of his eyebrows, knowing full well that Max would give him a head slap for his comment.

"And still, my answer's no. So drop it and move onto wish number two. How about a nice nose ring? I hear they are the new tats this year," Dean helpfully offered, turning hopeful eyes on Alec.

"Dean…" Alec bleated but it was Sam who ended up shaking his head, shutting down his entreaty.

"Nope. Forget it Alec. I've seen him get like this before. There's no budging him…" Sam counseled.

Dean settled back in the couch, smug in his victory. "You got that right."

"Guess I'm going to be the reigning best big brother," Sam announced, sighed as if he was taking the title unwillingly. He offered a wink to Alec a second before Dean scoffed.

"In your dreams, Sammy."

Getting in on the game, Alec admitted with mock resignation, "No. Sammy's pretty well got it locked in now. Guess age and experience is letting you down this time, Dean."

Dean's jaw clenched and he offered his brothers matching glares. He knew what they were up to but he wasn't going to fall for it. Nope. Not this time. His ego could take the hit. So what if Alec thought Sam was awesome and '_I'm_ a_ straight-laced, boring, stick in the mud'_ Dean bitterly finished.

"Don't take it personally Alec," Sam consoled, his eyes on Dean instead of his younger brother. "Dean's specialty is giving lame Christmas gifts. One year he gave me a Barbie doll…."

Pointing a finger at Sam, Dean animatedly protested the malign of his character, "Hey, that was a mistake and you know it, Sam."

"Do I?" Sam innocently retorted, bit his lip to hold back his smile at Dean's rising indignation.

"Yeah, you know it! I wanted to give you something for Christmas…."

"What? A twirling baton?"

Alec smiled as his brothers bickered about their past Christmases and slowly but surely started to rethink his whole tattoo wish. After all, his brothers were the ones that showed him that some tattoo could never define who he was, or even what he was. And sure, his barcode tattoo was more apt to get him and the people he cared about in trouble but then again, when did a Winchester _need _help finding trouble.

'_And when did I start putting more faith in a design on my skin than my brothers?' _he scathingly asked himself. _'If I need saving, if they need saving, we have each other.' _And that right there, it had a better success rate then any protection tattoo ever would.

Alec opened his mouth to announce his new decision, to bring a halt to his brothers' squabbling.

"Come on Sammy, I know the baton inspired you, had you going out for Stafford's cheer team," Dean taunted, turning the tables on his little brother, offering Alec a gloating 'this will get Sam's goat' smile.

"Yeah, right. Course it did," Sam sarcastically drawled.

Deciding that his announcement could wait, Alec closed his mouth and leaned back on the couch to contently watch the show. He vaguely wondered when he would stop being enthralled by his brothers'. The answer was quick in coming. '_Never_.'

Out of the blue, Dean snapped his fingers as if a thought just came to him. "Oh, that's right." He waited a beat for dramatic effect, until he was sure he had effectively retained both of his brothers' rapt attention before he spoke again. "They don't use batons in their routine. All that practicing you did for nothing, Sammy."

"You're a jerk, Dean," Sam proclaimed, his tone carrying a faint reminiscence of his sulking adolescent timbre before it fell into a resigned chuckle. Turning to Alec, he warned, "He's a jerk, right? I'm the awesomest big brother and he's a jerk. Just nod your head. I won't let Dean beat you up, for agreeing with me."

Before Alec could do more than offer up a goofy smile, Dean was making his own case. "Don't let Sammy pressure you," he said, meeting Alec's eyes, barely holding back his smile. "We both know who's going to win this race, hands down." And then his smile emerged in all its smug glory.

"Oh really," Sam drew out in challenge. "You and what ghost army?"

"You went there. I can't _believe_ you went there…" Dean drawled, shaking his head but his smirk promised that he was more than looking forward to the battle ahead because the prize, it was so worth it.

"Now, guys. Let's talk about personal service," Alec interjected. "I really could use a back rub…."

"Forget it" came the resounding answer, attesting to the fact that his brothers could still agree even when they disagreed. Course that didn't mean either one of them was conceding the battle. After all, surrender wasn't in the Winchester playbook.

'_And neither is playing things safe_,' Alec accepted, was starting to see that his brothers had been raised to be soldiers as much as he had. That Shiloh, it wouldn't be the last battlefield they took a stand on. His family would always face danger…but never alone.

'_And it sure isn't going to be some tattoo that saves my butt, every single time. And then brags about it_,' Alec silently quipped, smiling as his brothers' one-upmanship gained momentum. Suddenly he knew that, maybe _other people_ needed to wait for some magical date on a calendar to get what they wanted most. But not him.

Because everything he ever wanted, everything he never allowed himself to hope for, he already had it. In spades.

SNDASNDASNDASNDA

The End!

SNDASNDASNDASNDA

A truckload of thanks is owed to every single person who took a chance on this AU, who reviewed with such kindness and insight, who patiently waited for long-in-coming updates, who read chapter after chapter. Thank you to all of you!

You might have caught on that I left a few things hanging, namely the bet between Sam and Alec and Alec's Christmas gift for Dean. I'm hoping those loose ends work as an encouragement to me to write the Christmas tale I promised and a hook to get you back to check it out.

Until then, everyone enjoy the new season of Supernatural!

Cheryl W.


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